Gene Therapy
by Duncan Johnson
Summary: A Doctor Who/X-Men crossover. Tomorrow. A new species is emerging. Some wish to defend them, some to destroy them, others to use them, but are the sides in this war as clearly defined as they first appear.
1. Prologue

**__**

Disclaimer: Doctor Who, the TARDIS and related characters are the property of the BBC and are used without permission. The X-Men, the New Mutants and related characters are the property of Marvel Comics and are used without permission. This is a non-profit making work of fan-fiction.

Mina Harker was created by Bram Stoker.

****

This story takes place after _Angels and Devils_.

Gene Therapy

By Duncan Johnson

__

An adventure of the eighth Doctor and Mina Harker

Prologue

****

Yesterday.

The camper van sidled gently into the car park, settled itself and then slept.

Charles turned round in his seat to address his passengers.

'I've got to go and pick up some supplies,' he explained. 'I won't be long.'

One of the passengers raised her hand.

'But what if someone comes looking for us?' she asked.

'No one can see you in here,' Charles promised, tapping on the blacked out windows. 'So long as you stay put you'll be safe. And once we get going again we won't stop until the coast.'

'And you're sure there'll be a boat ready?' another passenger asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. 'I mean, I know you said and I trust you, but it's everyone else I worry about.'

'The boat will be there,' Charles assured him. 'I have a way of persuading people.'

Riding shotgun, Amelia cleared her throat pointedly.

Charles gave her a pitying glance.

'I need some air,' she said, stepping down from the vehicle.

Charles got out on his side and hurried round the van to join her. 

'Amy,' he began, 'I'd prefer it if you stayed here to…keep an eye on them.'

'No way.'

'But-'

'Have you looked at them, Charles?' Amelia asked. 'I mean really looked? I just can't be in there another minute.'

'Amy, they can't help what they are,' Charles said.

'I know,' Amy replied. 'I'm not anti them. But the thing of it is that they still turn my stomach.'

'So what do you suggest we do?' Charles asked. 'We have a responsibility-'

'What responsibility?' Amelia demanded. 'We don't owe them anything. But you have to have your moral crusade, don't you?'

Charles looked away. There were a group of teens hanging around in front of the store. They were not doing anything obviously wrong, but Charles was getting a bad vibe and he had learned to trust his intuition.

He glanced back at Amelia.

'I thought it was our crusade?' he protested. 'You never said…'

Amelia ran a hand through her red hair and laughed.

'For such a big brain you can be incredibly dense, Charles,' she said. 'I love you. I want to spend time with you so when you go off on one of your crackpot schemes I want to be with you. But I never signed up for any of this.'

'Are you saying you don't think what we're doing is worthwhile?' Charles asked plaintively.

'Of course not,' Amelia said. 'What you're doing is important and noble, but…well, do we really have to be the ones to do it? We're risking our lives here.'

'Somebody has to,' Charles shot back.

'But not us,' Amelia insisted. 'We don't have to be a part of this…this crusade. We could be happy, Charles.'

'Could you really be happy knowing you could have helped save someone, but didn't?'

'We have helped,' Amelia said. 'They can get to the coast themselves from here. We can say our goodbyes and get out of here before it's too late.'

'It's already too late, Amy,' Charles said. 'It was too late on the day that we were born. Do you really think they are going to differentiate between us and the people in the bus just because we look more normal?'

'They might never find us,' Amelia replied. 'We could have a normal life.'

'I…I can't turn my back on them,' Charles insisted.

'Can't? Or won't?' Amelia turned her back on him. 'I can't be a part of this. Not any more. I'm going home.'

'Will you be there when I get back?' Charles stammered.

'I…' Amelia's voiced trailed off. 'I wouldn't count on it, Charles.'

Without looking back, Amelia walked hurriedly off into the distance. Charles watched her until she disappeared round a corner and out of sight.

He glanced back at the camper van. They'd be okay on their own for a few minutes surely? Then he glanced at the kids, still hanging around by the video store, sharing a cigarette. 

He took another look at the van.

'Be safe,' he whispered. 'Please.'

Then he ran off in the direction Amelia had taken.

'Amy!' he shouted. 'Wait!'

The road had recently been resurfaced and gravel had scattered on to the sidewalk making footing treacherous. Charles skidded and fell to one knee. The gravel tore through both jeans and flesh, but Charles did not notice, instead getting right back up and carrying on running.

He grabbed a redhead by the shoulder.

'Amy!' he called.

The woman turned and looked at him quizzically. It was not her.

He had no time for apologies and sped right past her. Amelia could not have gone far, he kept telling himself, but her familiar figure, a figure he knew intimately, was nowhere in sight.

An explosion echoed down the street. The shockwave set off several car alarms and set Charles' ears ringing. Without waiting for the noise to subside, Charles turned and ran back the way he had come, even faster than he had pursued Amelia.

He stopped when he reached the car park, falling to his knees in shock and horror. 

The van was on fire, the vehicle already little more than a blackened ruin. 

Charles crawled towards it. He could see a hand twitching in the blaze and he reached for it, ignoring the heat. His skin reddened and blistered as he clasped the hand. He put all his effort into trying to pull the hand's owner free of the wreckage, but he could get no purchase.

'Let it go,' a voice said in his ear. 'Let it go, man, they're gone. Nothing could have survived that.'

Strong arms wrapped themselves around him and lifted him away from the blazing wreck.

The hand twitched once more, then was still.

* * *

****

Now.

'Isabella, don't run so far ahead.'

Lisa Phillips watched her dog with a wry smile. The black Labrador ignored her, pounding furiously onward, revelling in her freedom from that confounding lead. A butterfly settled on Isabella's wet nose. She shook it off and then yelped at the fluttering insect. The dog leapt up, trying to catch the butterfly between her teeth, but the butterfly flew just out of reach, taunting the other animal.

Lisa paused for a moment, taking a deep draught of the damp morning air. She was an early riser and looked forward to her early morning run with Isabella almost as much as Isabella did herself. Lisa insisted on walking through the park, however. It was cut off from the busy main road and Lisa revelled in the peace and quiet. Everything seemed so much simpler here, peaceful and tranquil.

Isabella's frantic barking cut through the stillness.

Lisa looked up, but the dog was no longer visible. She must have run beyond the tree line. Lisa hurried forward, making her way through the small copse that shielded the children's play area from the wind.

'Isabella?' she called out. 'Where are you?'

Lisa wondered what could have spooked her dog. There were not going to be any kids around at this time of the morning, surely. As she forced her way out beyond the trees, Lisa had to correct herself. A small child was sitting on one of the swings. Isabella was tugging at the kid's pants' leg with her teeth, growling all the time.

'Isabella!' Lisa snapped. 'Come away from there.'

She rushed across to the swing. The play area was surfaced with loose bark chippings that crunched underfoot as she ran.

'I'm so sorry,' she said as she grabbed Isabella's collar and dragged her away. 'She didn't hurt you, did she? She's normally really friendly.'

Lisa looked up, offering the boy a weak smile.

Then she screamed.

* * *

__

'The peace of this community was shattered today with the discovery of the body of a child, tied to a swing and with his throat slit. As yet the child remains unidentified. Police refuse to comment on the possible circumstances of the boy's death, but this case shares similarities with six other deaths in the State of New York within the past fortnight. Detectives working on the case refuse to confirm that there may, in fact, be a serial killer at large. In the meantime, this area remains sealed while scene of crime officers continue there investigations and police are appealing for anyone who may have seen anything suspicious in the park last night, however small, to come forward.'

Governor Grayson disgustedly thrust the remote in the direction of the TV and shut off the picture.

'I see your people have done a good job in covering up certain aspects of this mess,' she said.

'You mean that these attacks may be racially motivated?' Adams asked.

'_Are_ racially motivated,' Grayson corrected. 'So who do you think's behind them? FOH? Purity? The Third Way?'

'All of the above?' Adams suggested. 'The fact is, Kim, that we don't know anywhere near enough about these groups.'

'Still, so long as we can keep the public unaware of the situation we may still be able to prevent a mass panic.'

'It may already be too late for that,' Adams said. 'People are already starting to put two and two together and realising our numbers make five.'

He threw a pile of newspapers down on Grayson's desk.

'The New York Times, page six: Genetic War on our Streets,' Adams read. 'The Daily Bugle, page four: Are Humanity's Days Numbered? And I can quote another half dozen papers with similar stories.'

'No one's going to believe this stuff,' Grayson said.

'Why not? It happens to be true.'

'We'll deny it,' Grayson insisted. 'There's not one ounce of evidence to back this up.'

'And you think the public will believe us over the tabloids?' Adams asked.

'So what do you suggest?'

'I don't see we have much choice,' Adams replied. 'We tell them the truth. After a fashion.'

* * *

'Let me get this straight, Professor,' John Hammer said. 'You're telling us that we don't need to worry that people capable of firing laser beams from their fingertips are walking our streets. We can feel safe at night knowing that there are people out there who can walk through solid walls and into our homes. I'm sorry, Professor, but I don't feel safe at all.'

Charles Xavier leaned forward, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

'Mr Hammer, you are blowing the issue out of proportion,' he began slowly. 'You are suggesting that just because a person is capable of something then they will do that thing. That's like saying that everyone who owns a handgun intends to use it to kill somebody. I don't see you campaigning to take away a persons right to own a gun.'

'But we license people to own guns,' Hammer went on. 'At the very least, there ought to be some registration in place for these 'mutants'.'

'For what? Being born different?' Xavier asked. He was consciously struggling to keep his voice level. He wanted to be seen as the voice of reason in opposition to Hammer's hysterical ranting. 'Do we insist on registration for athletes for being born faster or stronger than the rest of us?'

'Last time I checked, Michael Jordan couldn't turn me into a popsicle,' Hammer remarked.

This drew laughter from the studio audience. Xavier frowned.

'People have a right to feel protected,' Hammer continued. 'How can they feel safe when they're constantly wondering if their neighbour might blow up their apartment block next time he loses his temper? Answer me that.'

'I couldn't agree with you more,' Xavier replied. 'People do have a right to feel safe. However, what you seem to be forgetting, is that mutants are people too. They should have the same rights as every one else. How would you feel if the government stepped up and insisted that all human beings had to be registered?'

'Now who's missing the point?' Hammer asked. 'We're talking about people who could kill you just by looking at you here.'

'I think you'll find that non-mutants are just as capable of murder,' Xavier responded. 'Physical differences don't make one any more or less enlightened. Don't forget that the number of mutants is tiny compared with the non-mutant population. With all the fear and hatred around at the moment, who do you think has more right to be frightened?'

'I'm sorry, Professor,' Hammer said, 'but I find it hard to believe that someone who can make me think what they want is going to be scared of little old me.'

'If mutants can do that, Mr Hammer,' Xavier said, 'then ask yourself this: why haven't they?'

* * *

Sebastian Vaughan stood at the window, looking down on the people scurrying like ants below. His gloved hands rested on his silver-topped cane. His right leg had been grotesquely twisted since birth and the cane helped, though not nearly as much as Vaughan would have liked.

'Did you see the debate on television last night, Ashley?' he asked.

Ashley Campbell was perched on the corner of his desk. A glass of Scotch sat untouched next to him.

'Yes, I did,' he replied. 'That Xavier makes a pretty convincing case.'

'He's a natural orator,' Vaughan agreed, 'but it doesn't matter. People will believe what they want to believe and that usually means the worst.'

'Usually? Usually's not good enough, Sebastian,' Campbell complained. 'The mutant question is the biggest single issue in this election campaign - Grayson's made sure of that - and I need to know I can beat her.'

'Don't worry yourself so, Ashley,' Vaughan told him. 'Grayson has badly misjudged the mood of the people. She wants to be seen as the supporter of human rights, an icon of tolerance and a paragon of virtue. She wants to play the hero.'

'And that's wrong, is it?' Campbell asked.

'It's been less than twelve months since they went public regarding the existence of mutants,' Vaughan explained. 'Do you really think that's enough time for people to get used to the idea. They're not worried about such complexities as the legal status of mutated humans; they only want to know how it will affect them. Grayson may be the mutant's champion, but you…well, play it right and you can be the people's.'

'You really think so?' Campbell fumbled with a cigarette packet, finally managed to remove a cigarette and lit it.

'Should you really be smoking, Ashley?' Vaughan asked with a wry smile. 'I thought your latest poll showed that eighty-seven per cent of voters preferred their candidates not to smoke?'

'Ah, yes, well…'

Ashley wafted the cigarette around ineffectually.

'Relax, Ashley, your secret's safe with me,' Vaughan promised. 'Besides, if that's your only vice then I think the voters are getting off lightly. As for your campaign, you really have nothing to worry about. Thanks to Vaughan Industries' generous support, you have a solution to the mutant problem.'

'How is the Guardsman Project?' Campbell asked.

'Progressing nicely,' Vaughan said, checking his watch. 'The first prototypes should be rolling off the production line any time now. We can have them ready for you press conference on Friday if you want.'

'That's probably a good idea,' Campbell agreed, 'it's just…'

'Hmm? Not getting cold feet, are we, Ashley? And I thought you wanted to win.'

'I do,' Campbell insisted. 'It's just that we're pouring a lot of money into this thing-'

'Actually, I'm pouring a lot of money into this project,' Vaughan corrected him. 'Don't worry about paying me back, though. At least, not until you're firmly in office, anyway.'

'Er, quite,' Campbell responded. 'As I was saying, you're spending all this money, but what if the mood of the public changes? We seem to be putting a lot of faith in their continued fear of these mutants.'

'Not at all, Ashley, not at all,' Vaughan said. 'In fact, I've taken steps to ensure that that fear will only grow.'

'Now hang on a minute, Sebastian,' Campbell began, 'I'm not sure I like where you're going with this.'

'Which is why I'm not going to tell you about it, dear boy. Plausible deniability. And by the way, we're renaming the Guardsman Project.'

'We are?'

'Guardsman sounds so…weak,' Vaughan continued. 'We need something more dramatic, something the public will respond to. I'm thinking…Sentinel.'

* * *

****

Tomorrow.

And some distance away, on Staten Island, a blue box wheezes and groans into existence.


	2. Episode One

Episode One

From the journal of Mrs Mina Harker

__

I am not a vampire. 

It is one of the three things that have been preying on my mind since we left England some three weeks ago. The image of that child, that thing, standing in the church pulpit and laughing at me is one that I fear I shall take to my grave. It labelled me a vampire, but I know my vampire lore and I know that that cannot be the case. 

I can still walk outside during the hours of daylight.

And there the differences between my condition and that of that supernatural creature of the night end. Can I any longer consider myself to be human?

There, in a nutshell, is the second of my concerns. The creature may have highlighted my condition, but he did not change me. Well, loath as I am to speak of those events, that is not entirely the case. I cannot, nor would I want to, claim that his powers did not affect me, but I do know that he left me no different than when I first arrived. Yet prior to his statements, I remained oblivious to my condition, other than a curious need to hide the twin wounds in my neck. How can that be? Surely I must have noticed when completing my morning ablutions that I had no reflection in the mirror. Every day since, the lack of such an image has haunted me, taunting me even in my sleep, but in the days prior to that confrontation I paid it no heed. It was as if my mind were refusing to acknowledge the fact of my condition.

But all that has changed and acknowledge that state I must. If only I knew what my condition was.

I would turn to the Doctor for help and guidance, but here we arrive at the third and final of my worries. The Doctor has been avoiding me.

My travelling companion seems uncommonly bothered by my existence. I remember everything that happened while under that horrid creature's influence (and oh, how I wish that I did not) and I recall his words to the Doctor. Is my condition such an anathema to him? How I wish he would explain things to me so that I might better understand, might be able to help him as I wish he would help me, but he seems to be avoiding the issue by avoiding me. Those few times we have spoken have been short terse exchanges where he would not even meet my gaze. I would ask him to return me to my own time so that I might resume my teaching career, but he will not remain in the room with me long enough for me to form such a request. 

Besides which, can I really go back to my previous life knowing what I know now?

I visited the wardrobe room this morning. The wooden walls are inlaid with mirrors, all of which seem to be laughing at me. I ignore them; after three weeks I am beginning to learn how to do that. I have decided to try a new look, something befitting my current state of mind. Three weeks ago the idea of wearing something other than a long dress would have horrified my sensibilities - sensibilities, which, I am learning, are very much rooted in the time of my birth - but now I have bigger concerns. I can consider an outfit for its practical benefits as opposed to one that suits my antiquated views on modesty.

Having dressed, I make my way through darkened corridors towards the console room. Perhaps, I think, my new image will be of passing interest to the Doctor. Or perhaps I am simply deluding myself. The corridors branch and wind in a dizzying pattern, one that I am sure changes each time I attempt this route, but I have been in the TARDIS for some time now and have learnt not to fight the machine's foibles. As long as I am patient, I know that I will eventually end up where I wish to be, even if that was not where I originally intended.

This time, however, the ship and I are in agreement and I arrive in the console room after only five short minutes of travel. The Doctor is hunched over the mushroom-shaped central console, partly hidden from my sight by the wrought iron 'legs' that wrap spider-like around the dais and stretch up into the blackness overhead. A bat is fluttering round the crystalline central column. I shudder, wondering if this is an omen.

The Doctor looks up, meets my eye and hurriedly glances away.

'Ah, Mina,' he says. 'You're up early.'

It is an odd thing to say. Time does not have a lot of meaning inside a time machine. I am tempted to say as much, but then think better of it.

The Doctor looks even more drawn than usual. His narrow face is line and careworn, his eyes filled with age and sadness. His long-fingered hands dance across the controls of the time ship, but they seem to lack the energy I am used to. It is as if someone has found the fire that drives the Doctor and snuffed it out.

'I need to get something from the library,' he says. 'If you'll excuse me.'

'Doctor,' I begin and he pauses. Suddenly I have nothing to say. I know that we need to have this conversation, but I am unable to find the words I need.

I settle for something simple.

'Doctor, we need to talk.'

The Doctor looks my way and this time he does meet my gaze. If I were a more fanciful individual I might say that I could see his torment writhing like a storm-ravaged sea beneath the surface of his grey-green eyes. In any event, I find myself unable to hold his stare for long.

'You're right, Mina,' he says at last. 'I'm sorry for how I've been treating you lately and we will talk about it. Just not right now, all right.'

And he forces his way past me and hurries off down the corridor. I do not bother to pursue. Instead I cross the room and examine the settings on the console. They mean nothing to me, but with the Doctor being less than forthcoming this is my only way to keep informed. Having made a mental note of the information, I settle into the armchair to wait for the Doctor's eventual return.

I do not have to wait long.

It is impossible to make out the ceiling of the console chamber. I have not yet decided whether this is because it is so high up as to be beyond the range of my vision or because the room does not have a ceiling at all. Instead, all that can normally be seen up there is impenetrable blackness. Normally. I have just made myself comfortable in my chair when the area above me suddenly explodes into life. Stars and galaxies appear on the dark blanket. As I watch I can see a comet streak from one side of the room to the other.

And then a bell begins to sound.

I have never heard that bell before, but its deep, mournful sound, assures me that it can only mean trouble. If there is any doubt it is dispelled by the sight of the Doctor darting back into the room, coat tails flying, and seizing hold of the console as if his life depends upon it. He flicks switches and consults dials with increasing alarm, an alarm that is infectious.

'Doctor,' I ask, 'what is it? What's wrong?'

'Not now, Mina,' he replies, hopping round the console like a frightened jackrabbit.

'Doctor.'

'There isn't time,' he complains, casting furtive glances at the maelstrom forming above our heads.

'Make time,' I demand.

He looks at me and there is a flash of anger in his eyes, but it passes almost as quickly as it had arrived.

'Very well,' he says. 'The short version. There's a temporal breach somewhere in the TARDIS. Vortex energy is spilling in.'

'And this is bad?'

'Put it this way,' the Doctor explains, 'if it touches you it will either age you to a crone or regress you to a baby. Or both.'

'Both?'

'Nasty stuff temporal energy.'

'Isn't there something we can do?' I ask. 'Can't we plug the breach somehow?'

'Regrettably not,' the Doctor replies. 'The breach is already too far advanced. That's not the problem, though.'

'It isn't?'

'No, the TARDIS can seal the breach on its own, given time,' the Doctor continues, 'but by then the ship will be swimming in temporal energy, which won't do either of us any good at all.'

'So what are we going to do about it?' There is an edge of hysteria in my voice. I am not ashamed to admit it. It is very difficult staying calm when your life is at stake.

'Well, if I wasn't constantly being interrupted,' the Doctor snaps, 'I might try setting us down somewhere where you and I will be safe while the TARDIS rides out the storm. There! Hold on, this is going to be rough.'

He is right. I usually do not notice when the TARDIS is in flight. At present, however, the TARDIS is bucking like a wild stallion and I am thrown back into my chair with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs. The Doctor is clinging to the console like a drowning man might cling to the wreckage of his ship. It is an image I wish I could easily dispel.

Then the terrible trumpeting of materialisation begins.

* * *

'Mr and Mrs Buckingham, let me assure you that I have Sarah's best interests at heart.'

Professor Charles Xavier was sitting in his wheel chair, which was positioned by the fireplace in the front room of the Buckinghams' home. It was a gas fire and currently not lit. Pictures adorned the mantelpiece over the fire, including one photo of Sarah, aged six. She did not look anything like as attractive now that she had turned thirteen.

'We're still not sure that talking to you is such a good idea,' Graham Buckingham, husband and father, replied. He was sitting on the sofa, next to his wife, holding her hand in his. She had not said a word throughout the entire interview. Ororo felt that she might be more sympathetic to their case, but it was clear that it was the husband's opinion that counted. Ororo sat cross-legged on a chair near Xavier, nursing a mug of coffee in her hands. Through the window she could see the sky darkening outside, mirroring her mood.

'I understand, Mr Buckingham,' Xavier was saying, 'but it can't hurt to listen. I'm sure you'll agree that Sarah's condition has progressed to the stage where something must be done. I'm here simply to offer one option.'

Mr Buckingham scratched behind his ear with his free hand. He looked far from convinced.

'Mr Buckingham, Mrs Buckingham, I am a product of Professor Xavier's school,' Ororo said. 'I was an orphan and had to make my way as a pickpocket in order to get by. The professor found me and offered me a chance at a new life. He gave me a future I might otherwise not have had. I'm here to try and give you an insight into the workings of the school and obviously I think you should take the professor up on his offer, but nobody's going to force you into anything. All we ask is that you give us a fair hearing.'

'That's all very noble, Miss Munroe,' Mr Buckingham replied, 'and I'm glad that Professor Xavier was able to help you out, but I'm sure that you can see that your situation and my daughter's are very different. For one, Sarah isn't an orphan. She has Alice and me to support her.'

_And Sarah isn't a thief_, Ororo thought. _That's what you want to say, isn't it._

'Yes, Sarah and Ororo come from very different backgrounds,' Xavier said, 'but I believe that Sarah's situation is actually more desperate. Ororo can hide the fact that she is a mutant, if she wishes. Sarah, on the other hand, is going to have great difficulty hiding what she is and she is going to suffer because of it, no matter how loving and supportive her parents are.'

'She's going to be a mutant whatever happens,' Mr Buckingham retorted. 'Going to a fancy school isn't going to change that.'

'No,' Xavier agreed, shaking his head sadly, 'it isn't. Your daughter will always be a mutant and, because of the nature of her mutation, that will always be apparent. My school won't change that. But it can help her to cope. My staff understand mutancy in a way parents can't, which is not to demean your contribution in any way, but it is a fact that my staff have more experience in these matters. We can help Sarah come to terms with her gift - and I firmly believe that all mutations, however they may first appear, are gifts - and help her establish her place in society. And perhaps we can help you and your wife understand your daughter's condition a little better, too.'

'My wife and I understand our daughter well enough, thank you,' Mr Buckingham snapped.

'That's not what I meant…'

'We've been watching the news,' Mr Buckingham continued. 'It's getting so you can't turn the TV on anymore without hearing the word 'mutant'. We heard about that boy who was killed and apparently he's not the only one.'

'No, he isn't,' Xavier agreed quietly.

Black clouds gathered outside the window.

'It seems to me that by putting all these mutants in one place you're making yourself a target,' Mr Buckingham continued.

'My school is a school for gifted youngsters,' Xavier replied. 'The fact that those gifted youngsters are also mutants is a closely guarded secret. Those 'undesirable elements' you're concerned about are not going to learn about my school.'

'And yet you are happy to tell us all about it,' Mr Buckingham said. 'It does not reflect well on your security arrangements.'

Thunder rumbled outside.

'My security arrangements are more than adequate, Mr Buckingham,' Xavier said darkly, 'and I pity any individual that comes to my school looking for trouble.'

'Yes well, that's as may be,' Mr Buckingham stammered, 'but we still feel that Sarah will be better off with us, don't we, darling.'

Xavier turned to Ororo.

'Ororo, would you mind waiting for me outside,' he said. 'I'd like to speak to the Buckinghams alone for a minute.'

'I don't see what you hope to achieve,' Mr Buckingham protested.

'Indulge me,' Xavier said.

'Are you sure you want to wait outside, Miss Munroe,' Mrs Buckingham said quietly. 'It looks like rain.'

Xavier smiled. 

'I think Ororo will be just fine.'

He looked at Ororo and she acknowledged him before leaving the room.

The dark clouds were already dissipating when Professor Xavier rolled out onto the drive to join her.

'Well?' Ororo asked.

'Sarah will be joining us in the New Year,' Xavier said. 'I persuaded her parents that it was in her best interests.'

* * *

__

The Doctor shoves me violently through the TARDIS door, following at my heels. He whirls and I get the briefest glimpse of a roiling blue white wave charging towards us before he slams shut the doors and locks them.

He turns to me, grinning.

'You know, that was almost exciting.'

Then he catches himself and looks away.

'We'll have to find somewhere for you to stay,' he says. 'I'll come and fetch you when it's safe to go back inside.'

'You won't be staying with me?' I ask.

He does not answer.

It is cold outside and I wish that I had had a chance to get a coat. As it is, I am at least grateful that my chosen outfit includes a jacket. I shove my hands into the jacket's pockets and hurry after the Doctor as he begins to explore.

We have landed in the shadow of a temple. While I pause to appreciate the structure, the Doctor is already darting off into the garden beyond. There are a number of stone sculptures in the grounds. I recognise a few as representations of Buddha. My husband, Jonathan, used to travel a lot and he entertained me with his stories of other cultures, so, while I do not consider myself well-travelled (at least, not before my meeting with the Doctor), I am not completely ignorant of life beyond England's shores.

'Where do you suppose we are?' the Doctor says. His voice is soft and I get the impression that he is not directing the question at me, but rather to himself.

'Asia?' he muses. 'Tibet, possibly?'

I leave him to his thoughts and wander off on an exploration of my own. With all that I have experienced alongside my companion, you might think that travelling alone might not be the wisest course that I could have chosen and I would not even begin to argue with you. However, please remember that at this point I have been cooped up within the Doctor's time machine for three whole weeks. The TARDIS had landed several times during this period and on many occasions the Doctor had taken the opportunity to go outside and explore. Not once, however, had he taken me with him. 

So you see, this is my first glimpse of the outside world in quite some time and I am determined to make the most of it.

Striding beyond the temple, I find myself at the top of a hill. The sun is high in the sky and I use my hand to shield my eyes from its glare as I stare out over the horizon.

'Doctor,' I call out, as something catches my eye, 'I think you should see this.'

He bounds to my side in an instant.

'Ah,' he says. 'Not Tibet then. Come on, Mina, it can't be far to the ferry.'

* * *

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was closed for the Winter break. Few of the students had gone home for the holidays, however. A high proportion were runaways, strays with nowhere else to go, and for them the doors of the school were always open.

And then there were those who kept coming back by choice.

Scott Summers had not missed an Xavier's Christmas Party since enrolling there. He had been both a student and then a teacher at the school and, though he was no longer an official part of the staff, he was always welcome.

He passed a large gold star to Kurt Wagner, who was hanging by his feet from one of the wooden beams crossing the ceiling. Kurt beamed and deftly positioned the star on top of the tree.

'Perfect,' Kurt said, his voice heavy with a German accent. He released his grip on the ceiling and flipped backwards, landing cat-like on the carpet next to Scott. Kurt had been a circus acrobat before becoming part of the school.

'I'm impressed, boys.'

Both men turned to face Scott's wife, Madelyne, who was standing in the doorway admiring their handiwork.

Kurt executed a flamboyant bow before taking Madelyne's hand and kissing it.

'In that case, dear lady, all our efforts have been worthwhile,' he said.

'Careful, Kurt,' Madelyne warned him. 'You'll make my husband jealous.'

'Do I have anything to be jealous about?' Scott asked, putting his hands on either side of his wife's waist.

'What do you think?' Madelyne responded, draping her own arms over her husband's shoulders and running her fingers through his light brown hair.

'I think I'm the luckiest man alive.' Scott tipped his head forward and kissed Madelyne.

'You better believe it,' Madelyne said, when she came up for air.

This time she initiated the kiss.

'Oh, puh-lease,' Kurt complained. 'Get a room you two. If this was a video I'd fast forward through this bit to get to the big action scene, but here I'm expected to just stand here quietly while you two enjoy yourselves. Hello? Is anyone listening to me?'

Scott looked up.

'You're just jealous because Amanda couldn't make it,' he said.

Kurt folded his arms.

'Yes,' he replied. 'And your point is?'

'How's Nathan?' Scott asked Madelyne. Nathan was their baby son.

'Asleep,' Madelyne replied. 'Finally. Is it me or is it really quiet here? I thought all the kids would be excited about Christmas, but this place is dead.'

'Everyone's out,' Scott explained. 'Peter and Logan offered to drive the kids into the city for some last minute Christmas shopping.'

'Logan?' Madelyne repeated. 'He offered to look after a bus load of children?'

'I think it's just an excuse to get out of the school,' Kurt interjected. 'I imagine Peter will end up babysitting.'

'Marie went with them, too,' Scott added, 'so they should be okay.'

'Famous last words. What about Kitty? She was all over Nathan when we arrived yesterday. I was going to ask her to baby-sit so you and I could go out tonight, but I can't find her anywhere.'

'I'm sure she'd love to,' Scott replied, 'but you'll have to wait to ask her. She's taken Rachel sightseeing.'

'Yes,' Kurt agreed, 'and knowing those two they may be gone some time.'

* * *

__

The ferry is crowded with people pressed shoulder to shoulder, yet somehow the Doctor has managed to find us a space at the railing. The view is spectacular, more than making up for the icy wind tearing the skin from my face. It is, therefore, a little disappointing to note that the Doctor is standing with his back to it.

'Do you know where we are?' I ask.

The Doctor grunts an affirmative.

'Have you been here before?'

Another grunt.

'Are you planning on telling me where we are at any point?'

'We're in New York, in the United States of America. On Earth,' the Doctor replies flatly.

'I know where New York is,' I mutter. 'And how about when? It obviously isn't my time.'

'Early twenty-first century,' comes the disinterested response.

I frown.

'How can you tell?'

'The skyline,' he replies.

I sigh.

'But you're not even looking,' I protest.

'And I prefer not to,' the Doctor snaps, before lapsing back into stubborn silence.

'Best ignore them when they're like that, honey,' the woman on my left remarks. 'My husband was the same. I up and left him in the end. You might want to think about that.'

'He's not…' I begin, then decide not to bother, settling instead for a smile and a shake of my head.

At least I can enjoy the view.

* * *

'Wow.'

'You've said that,' Kitty remarked.

'It's so big.'

'That too.'

Kitty and Rachel stood at the base of the Statue of Liberty. Well, Rachel stood. Kitty had grown bored and was sitting on the grass enjoying a hot dog.

Rachel looked down at her friend.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'Guess I'm overdoing it a bit, huh?'

'Hey, it's your first time in New York,' Kitty replied. 'You're entitled.'

'But you must be bored stiff,' Rachel deduced, 'having seen all this stuff a zillion times before.'

'Hell no,' Kitty replied. 'Well, maybe a little. Still she is impressive, though.'

Both girls looked up at the statue.

'I've seen pictures before,' Rachel said, 'but seeing it in real life it's just…wow!'

'You've…'

'Said that,' Rachel completed. 'I know. So, where are we going next, oh magnificent tour-guide-type-person?'

Kitty pulled a face, then pulled the folded guide book from the back pocket of her jeans. She flicked through the pages, scowling.

'Well,' Rachel prompted.

Kitty sprung to her feet.

'That way,' she said.

'That way?' Rachel repeated sceptically.

Kitty nodded firmly. 

'That way.'

'Are you sure you know where you're going?' Rachel asked.

'Of course I'm sure,' Kitty insisted. 'The tour of New York is like a tradition for any new arrival at Xavier's. Of course I know where I'm going.'

'You haven't got a clue, have you,' Rachel responded as they began walking towards the ferry terminal.

Kitty looked over her shoulder and gave her friend a hard stare.

'I'm just saying…'

Hard stare.

'Okay, okay, have it your way,' Rachel said, conceding defeat. 'Just don't come crying to me when we get hopelessly lost.'

* * *

Craig Miller hurried along Broad Street, glancing furtively around him. He was sure that everyone was staring at him. He clutched his trenchcoat tighter around his narrow frame, less to keep the cold out as to keep something in. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his tongue had swollen within his mouth, threatening to choke him. His body was falling apart with every step he took.

_Keep it together, Craigy-baby_, he told himself. _Not far now. Then you just do your bit and Mr Vaughan will make all that pain go away._

At least, that was the plan. At the moment it felt like he would disintegrate before he even got to where he was going and that would not do at all. The timing had to be perfect. Vaughan had said so.

The off-white stone of the New York Stock Exchange building leered down at him. Between the columns, the windows taunted him with their mocking stare. Across the street a policeman was staring at him. Had he been found out? Did they know? No, they could not know. Vaughan had planned this and Vaughan did not make mistakes. 

Craig took three deep breaths, steadying his nerves the way he had been taught. He glanced at his watch. He was five minutes early. He would have to wait.

There was a newspaper vending machine on the corner of the street. Craig shuffled over to it, fumbling with his change before finally inserting the right amount and yanking the paper free. He opened it up, not really reading the news. He simply wanted something to hide behind.

His hands were slick with sweat. It pooled between his fingers and trickled down the length of his thumb to stain the newspaper. As soon as it touched the page, the bead of sweat burst into flame. The flame licked hungrily at the newspaper and Craig instinctively threw it to the ground, stamping on it to stifle the flames.

He glanced around, vainly hoping no one had noticed.

That policeman was crossing the street towards him.

He no longer had time to wait.

Mumbling a quick apology to his employer, Craig Miller threw off his trenchcoat. His body was covered with sweat and, exposed to air, that sweat suddenly burst into flame. Craig did not feel the heat.

He laughed, then remembered that he was supposed to be giving some kind of speech. What was it?

'Human scum,' he began. His voice was amplified by the microphone attached to his throat and it echoed around the buildings in a way Craig decided he quite liked.

'Human scum,' he repeated, 'I am Fever Pitch and I represent Mutant America. You'll know all about us from, er, watching the news and stuff.' He was losing his thread, Craig knew, but damn, that amplified voice was impressive. Already pedestrians were running screaming away from him. A few brave souls had run towards him, but the heat emanating from his body had driven them back.

'I am a mutant,' he continued, 'the next stage of human evolution and I'm here to give you an ulti…ultim…warning. We are taking over this planet. Humanity has had its chance and it's time to give someone else a go. We're going to wipe you out, just see if we don't.'

He pointed at the front of the Stock Exchange and a ball of flame shot from his fingertips to strike one of the columns. The stone crumbled and fell, crashing down on to the sidewalk and sending the people below scattering for cover.

This was fun.

* * *

__

Now that we have disembarked the ferry, the Doctor is striding into the city. I practically have to run to keep up, but the Doctor ignores my pleas to slow down. Buildings tower on either side of us and I wish I had time to appreciate them, but I dare not lose sight of the Doctor as he twists he way haphazardly through the city streets. Everywhere there is noise, from the chatter of the people to the blare of the vehicles and I wish I had a chance to rest, but the Doctor is always pressing forward and it is all I can do to follow in his wake.

Then he stops and I collide with the back of his velvet jacket.

'What the…' I begin, but he shushes me, cocking his head to one side as if listening.

I am at a loss to explain how he expects to single out one sound out of the multitude intermingling in this cacophony, but then I hear it to, like the rumbling of a thunderstorm only not.

Now the Doctor is running and I am dogging his heels, glad that I have chosen not to wear one of my dresses. We seem to be going against the current, with people hurtling past us in the opposite direction, but the Doctor continues to forge his way through and, in doing so, makes the going a little easier for me as well.

As we round a corner, I have to shield my eyes from the glare. I squint, trying to take in the scene as quickly as possible. There is a man standing on the pavement - or is it sidewalk here? - and he is on fire, but he does not appear to be in pain. Rather, he is laughing as if enjoying himself. I have heard that laughter before, coming from the mouths of toddlers pulling the wings off flies. The destructive imagery is not inappropriate as I watch the man hurl a ball of flame at a nearby building, smashing free a large chunk of masonry. A girl is standing beneath the falling stone. As it tumbles towards her, I have time to take in her strawberry-blonde hair, adorned with blue ribbon, her pretty green dress with lace at the collar and cuffs and the battered rag doll under her arm. And yet I cannot move my feet to save her.

This is not a problem for my companion, however.

While I stand rooted to the spot, he has hurled himself across the street and is even now scooping the little girl into his arms. Just before the stone hits, the Doctor leaps clear. The stone strikes the pavement (sidewalk) and shatters, unleashing an enormous cloud of grey dust. When this begins to clear, however, I can see that my friend is safe, albeit looking slightly the worse for wear, and is passing the child into the arms of its grateful mother.

The street is now almost empty of pedestrians, though there are a small group off to my left. One of them is holding something on his shoulder and pointing it at the flaming man. A camera, perhaps?

I do not have time to ponder this further, since the Doctor is now approaching the fiery creature and I feel compelled to go and help him. Why this should be the case, I do not know, but I have seen the Doctor exert this influence on others and can only put it down to some indefinable facet of his character. It certainly cannot be his winning personality if the last few weeks are anything to go by.

'What do you think you're doing?' the Doctor demands. 'You're going to get people killed.'

'They're only humans,' the man replies. 'It's not like they count.'

There is something hesitant in his delivery, as if he doesn't quite believe what he's saying.

'Only humans?' the Doctor repeats. 'What are you?'

'I'm a mutant,' the man says, proudly. 'I'm the future.'

'Do you really hate humans so much?' I ask. I am still some distance away from the 'mutant', but the heat prevents me from approaching any closer.

'Why not?' the mutant replies. 'They hate us.'

'I'm not surprised if you go around destroying things,' the Doctor retorts. 'It's hardly a way to win friends, now, is it?'

'I don't want to make friends with the humans,' the mutant responds. 'I want to wipe them all out.'

'Do you indeed,' the Doctor muses. 'In that case, why are you throwing those fireballs of yours at the buildings rather than at people. Wouldn't that be a more effective way of 'wiping them all out'?'

'Well, I…' 

Before the mutant can finish his reply, we are interrupted by heavy steps walking our way. I turn to see a mechanical man, at least seven foot tall and resplendent in a purple and silver colour scheme, striding towards us.

'Stand aside,' the creature says in a grating mechanical voice. 'The unregistered mutant requires immediate termination.'

'Termination,' the Doctor says. 'That's a little bit drastic, isn't it? Not to mention final.'

'Termination?' the mutant asks. 'What's he mean by termination?'

'It means it's going to kill you,' I snap.

'Oh, no way,' the mutant stammers. 'That's not how it's supposed to happen. Mr Vaughan said…'

'Will you just shut up,' I shout. 'Don't you think you've done enough damage?'

The mechanical man raises its left arm. It has no hand, the arm ending in a hole, rather like the end of a cannon.

'The mutant must be eliminated.'

'Now hang on just a minute,' the Doctor says. 'Let's not rush things. After all, we haven't even been introduced. I'm the Doctor. And you are?'

'I am a Mark One Vaughan Industries Sentinel,' the mechanical man replies.

Vaughan? I recognise that as the name the mutant used moments before, but now is not the time to pursue that thought.

The Doctor strides forward and takes hold of the Sentinel's cannon-arm.

'Pleased to meet you,' he says, trying unsuccessfully to shake the arm up and down.

'Release this unit at once,' the Sentinel pronounces. 'You are interfering with an officially mandated termination.'

'Well, we couldn't have that,' the Doctor agrees, releasing the arm and stepping to one side. 'He's all yours.'

The Sentinel levels its arm at the mutant.

'Please, God, no,' the mutant begs. 'Don't let him kill me. Please, don't let him kill me.'

The Sentinel fires.

And at exactly the same moment, the Doctor barrels into the Sentinel, knocking its shot wide. The blast slams into the side of the building, knocking yet more masonry from its structure.

'For heaven's sake, run!' I shout at the mutant.

'I can't,' he complains, pointing at his feet. 'I'm stuck.'

The heat from the flames has melted the ground at his feet and he is now firmly welded in place.

'Doctor,' I say, 'I think we have a problem.'

'What was your first clue?' he retorts, positioning himself between the mutant and the Sentinel.

'You will move out of the way,' the Sentinel says.

'No, I don't think I will,' the Doctor replies. 'You see, you're here to kill an unregistered mutant and I think that's all that your programming will allow you to do. You can't kill a non-mutant. So as long as I'm standing between you and your target then there's nothing you can do.'

'You will move,' the Sentinel repeats.

The Doctor grins.

'Put you and your little tin mind in something of a quandary, haven't I?' the Doctor taunts.

'Why are you helping me?' the mutant asks. 'The smart thing to do would be to run and save your own lives.'

'Yes, it would, wouldn't it?' I agree beneath my breath.

'I'm not going anywhere,' the Doctor promises the mutant. 'Not until I know you're safe.'

'But why?'

'I save lives,' the Doctor responds simply. 'It's what doctors do.'

'Scan complete,' the Sentinel says. 'You have a double cardiovascular system.'

'Now, I can explain,' the Doctor begins, raising his hands above his head.

'You are not human,' the Sentinel deduces.

'Well, no, not exactly, I grant you…'

'Conclusion: you are a mutant,' the Sentinel continues. It raises its cannon-arm. 'Secondary target acquired. All unregistered mutants must be eliminated.'

The Sentinel fires…


	3. Episode Two

Episode Two

'Stop the car!' Xavier barked.

Quickly, Ororo pulled over to the side of the road and turned to see what was bothering her mentor. His head was bowed, eyes closed and his fingertips were pressed against his temples.

'Go ahead, Kurt,' he said. There was a long pause. 'How long will it take you to reach New York?' Another pause. 'No, I agree, that won't nearly be soon enough. I'll have to try contacting our people already in the city.'

* * *

****

Kitty, can you hear me?

'Ow,' Kitty complained as the professor's voice echoed in her skull. 'Loud and clear, sir. A little too loud.'

****

My apologies, but we don't have time to be subtle. There's a mutant attacking the Stock Exchange building.

'So that's what it is,' Kitty mused.

****

Kitty?

'Rachel and I heard the explosions,' Kitty explained. 'We're on our way to investigate.'

****

I shall reprimand the pair of you for your impetuousness later. As it is, you are the nearest to the scene and we need an on-site report.

'On it, professor.'

****

I'll try to arrange backup for you as soon as possible. And Kitty…

'Yes?'

****

Be careful.

'Be careful, he says,' Kitty muttered. 'What does he think I'm going to do?'

'Do you really want me to answer that?' Rachel asked.

'You know, if I wasn't busting a gut here, Kitty replied as they sprinted down the street, forcing pedestrians out of their way, 'then I'm sure I could come up with a devastatingly witty put down.'

'I'll take it as read,' Rachel shot back.

Broad Street had been cordoned off. Three police cars formed a barricade in front of them.

A police officer took a step towards them.

'Like we have time for this,' Kitty said.

'Hey, where do you girls think you're going?' the cop demanded.

Rachel closed her eyes and concentrated.

**Behind you**, she thought.

'What?' the cop turned away and the girls raced passed, vaulting over the hood of one of the cars.

A line of police officers straddled the road ahead. They had their backs to the girls and were pointing their guns at something out of Kitty's sight. It was not too hard to guess what, though.

At the sound of the girls' feet on the tarmac, the officers turned.

'Excuse us,' Kitty said.

'Cavalry coming through,' Rachel added.

Kitty took Rachel's hand and the pair of them ran straight through the line of police officers as if they were not there, drifting through them as if both officers and girls were little more than smoke.

'What a rush,' Kitty laughed. 'Now let's see what…'

She stopped suddenly, her voice trailing away.

'What the…' 

Rachel followed the line of Kitty's gaze.

'Oh,' she said.

* * *

__

I see the Sentinel raise its cannon-arm to fire and I act on instinct. I will have to live with the consequences of my action for the rest of my life.

I dive forward with a speed I did not know I possess and knock the Doctor to the ground, out of the way of the mechanical man's blast. The Sentinel fires its cannon and, without the Doctor to obstruct their path, the projectiles strike the fiery mutant, tearing his upper body apart. I want to look away, but my eyes are glued to the sight of his legs, still standing firm and upright, still aflame.

I hear the heavy footsteps of the Sentinel approaching.

'All unregistered mutants must be eliminated,' he says.

The Doctor struck his head when I knocked him down and he is still groggy, only vaguely aware of his surroundings. For my part, I no longer have the energy to fight.

'Just get it over with,' I snap.

'Move,' the Sentinel demands. 'You are obstructing the termination of a mutant.'

Of course! It cannot kill the Doctor while there is a human being in the way. But I am no human, am I, and how long will it be before the Sentinel realises?

'Move,' the Sentinel repeats.

I cling to the Doctor as if my life depends upon it. It does not - his does.

With its claw-like right hand, the Sentinel takes hold of the back of my jacket and lifts me bodily into the air. I try to maintain my grip upon the Doctor, but I am not strong enough, his velvet coat slipping slowly from my fingers. The Sentinel throws me across the street. I impact hands first, grazing my palms and wrists as I slide to a halt. The breath has been knocked from my body and it is a struggle to even rise to my knees to watch the Sentinel advance on my friend.

What happens next is like something from a dream. Or a nightmare.

A girl, she cannot be more than fifteen years of age, runs across my field of vision, angling a path for the mechanical monstrosity. She runs into the creature and I wince in sympathetic pain, that is until I realise that the heavy body has not obstructed her progress and that she is instead passing wraith-like through the metal frame. While the girl seems unaffected by this strange experience, the same cannot be said for the Sentinel. It writhes as if in pain (can such as he feel pain, I wonder) and sparks flare from its shell. Should I take pleasure in such a sight? I do not know, but the fact remains that I do take a certain degree of satisfaction from the creature's suffering.

The girl pauses by the Doctor, checking his condition.

'He's alive,' she calls out.

At first, I assume that she is addressing me, but then I notice the redheaded girl of about the same age standing nearby.

'Well, of course I'm alive,' the Doctor snaps crossly. 'It takes more than a clockwork soldier to finish me off.'

He attempts to stand, but his knees buckle under him and he leans into the ghost-girl for support. She can hold him - barely - so I can deduce that her ghostly state is only temporary.

'Hmm, maybe I'd better rest for a bit after all,' the Doctor concedes.

'Multiple mutant life-signs detected.'

As one, the four of us turn to regard the Sentinel, still sparking, but nevertheless determined to fulfil its bloodthirsty mission.

'Kitty, I think we're in trouble,' the redhead says.

'No, really?' the other girl - Kitty - responds.

'Can't you try scrambling him again?' the redhead asks.

'Yeah, Ray, 'cause that was so successful last time,' Kitty retorts.

'New mutant target acquired,' the Sentinel says, pointing its cannon-arm at Kitty and the Doctor. 'Preparing to carry out termination.'

'Kitty!' Ray screams.

She raises her arm and points in the Sentinel's direction. Mirroring her movements, the rubble blasted from the buildings by the first mutant begins to rise from the ground, as if lifted by invisible hands, and then hurls itself at the Sentinel. The mechanical creature is beaten back from the impact. However, once the dust has settled, it continues to advance mercilessly towards its targets.

'Telekinesis,' the Doctor says. 'Quite remarkable.'

His grasp of priorities never ceases to amaze me.

'I'm open to suggestions,' Ray remarks.

'Try praying for a miracle,' Kitty shoots back sarcastically.

'You called,' another female voice quips.

A bright light appears behind the Doctor with no apparent source. Silhouetted against the light are two small figures, one male, one female.

'Save it,' the male growls. Are those claws_ sprouting from his hands, I wonder._

'All aboard the Limbo express,' the girl calls.

Ray grabs my wrist and hauls me to my feet.

'Come on,' she orders and then she half-drags me over to where the others are waiting.

'Multiple targets registered,' the Sentinel says. 'Adjusting combat mode to wide burst.'

'Now you see us…' that new girl quips raising her arms.

The light flares and suddenly we are somewhere else.

* * *

Sebastian Vaughan looked up from his desk. There was a commotion outside his office.

His assistant knocked and stuck his head around the door.

'Sorry to bother you sir,' the man said, 'but Mr Campbell is insisting upon seeing you.'

'Then I suppose you had better show him in,' Vaughan sighed.

With a gloved hand, Vaughan closed the report from the Research & Development department that he had been reading and stowed it in a drawer beneath his desk. He locked the door, and dropped the key into his breast pocket before sitting up to greet his visitor.

'Ashley, what a pleasant surprise,' he said, as Campbell closed the office door. 'Do have a seat.'

Campbell remained standing. His face was purple with rage and he was trembling. Vaughan folded his hands on the desk in front of him.

'Was that your doing?' Campbell demanded.

'I'm sorry, Ashley,' Sebastian responded calmly, 'but I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about.'

'Than you're the only person in the city who doesn't,' Campbell snapped. 'I'm talking about that little stunt at the Stock Exchange. You know, the mutant and the Sentinel? Your Sentinel?'

'Ah, yes. That.'

'Yes, that.' Campbell had his hands on the edge of the desk and was leaning over Vaughan. He appeared to be on the verge of apoplexy. 'Is this what you meant by 'taking steps'?'

'Naturally.'

'Naturally?' Campbell shouted.

'Take a seat, Ashley and I'll explain,' Vaughan offered.

'But…'

'Sit. Down.' Vaughan commanded.

Campbell sat.

'The public must never forget that mutants are the enemy,' Vaughan explained after a moment's pause. 'Mr Miller's little demonstration provided a timely reminder.'

'That...that _thing_ was working for you?' Campbell asked.

'Mr Miller was a valuable addition to my staff,' Vaughan replied. 'He volunteered for this little enterprise.'

'And did he _volunteer_ to end up dead?'

Vaughan sighed. Campbell could be exceedingly tiresome. If he did not need the man…well, there would always be time to indulge his fantasies at a later date.

'Mr Miller's mutant condition was terminal. He would have been dead within a week. This way, his death meant something.'

'And this is what I've signed up for, is it?' Campbell asked. 'A death squad? I thought the idea was to put the mutants into camps, not exterminate them!'

'And how were you planning to hold these mutants, Ashley,' Vaughan responded, 'given that they can fly and teleport and control minds and walk through walls? Precisely what camp do you think would be equipped to keep them contained?'

'Well, I don't…'

'Tomorrow, you are going to give the most important speech of your political career,' Vaughan continued, 'and you are going to pledge to keep the public safe from the mutant menace. Unpalatable as it may be, this is the only way that you can guarantee their safety. The. Only. Way. You don't want to let the public down, do you?'

'About the speech,' Campbell said, sounding less stubborn and more whining. 'I thought we were going to unveil the Sentinel at the press conference. My ace in the hole, you said.'

'Think of this as a teaser, Ashley,' Vaughan soothed. 'Everyone's talking about it now, but no one really knows what it is. But we do and that means that everyone is going to want to know us. We've whetted their appetites and there are hungry for more. All you have to do is go out on to that little stage and exploit that.

'You can do that much, can't you, Ashley?'

* * *

'How are our guests?'

Ororo and Xavier were sitting either side of the large desk in the professor's study. A large set of French windows behind Xavier gave a magnificent view on to the garden. Several of the children were out there, revelling in the sunshine. It was warmer than perhaps it should have been for December and Ororo was proud of that. The school grounds were one of the few places the children could be open about their gifts without fear of exposure and they did not get to go outside nearly often enough in her opinion.

'Mrs Harker seems content to wait,' Ororo told Xavier, 'but the one calling himself the Doctor hasn't stopped questioning everything since he got here.'

'A man after my own heart,' Xavier mused with a smile. 'And where are our guests now?'

'We've confined them to the infirmary for the time being,' Ororo replied. 'For 'observation'.'

'And the Doctor is happy about this?' Xavier asked sceptically.

'He has made no effort to leave,' Ororo said. 'As long as there is someone there he can talk to he appears to be remarkably content. We've had to keep rotating the observers, though. The Doctor hasn't stopped talking since he arrived and several of the students have complained about fatigue.'

Xavier laughed.

'I look forward to meeting him in person. But we have more pressing matters. What do you make of this 'Sentinel'?'

'I debriefed Kitty and Rachel as soon as they arrived last night,' Ororo responded. 'Apparently their powers had little effect on it, yet it cut down a mutant with a single blast.'

'And what of its stated purpose to terminate all unregistered mutants?'

'Who would do such a thing, Professor? It's…evil.'

'Yes, it is,' Xavier agreed. 'We will need to monitor this situation closely. But this concept of mutant registration reminds me of something. Kim Grayson said something similar when we were discussing her election campaign.'

'Grayson wants mutants to have to register?' Ororo exclaimed.

'No, no,' Xavier assured her. 'She is, for the moment at least, on our side. She sees the mutant question as the big issue of this election, hence my involvement, and that means her opponents are having to make a stand on the issue as well.'

'You think this might have something to do with one of them?'

'Ashley Campbell is her main rival and he's known to have anti-mutant leanings,' Xavier explained. 'If anyone were going to campaign for mutant registration it would be him. He's holding a press conference at midday. I want you to be there. See what you can find out.'

'Does it really matter, though, professor?' Ororo asked. 'Assuming we're right and Campbell is behind this then we only need to worry if he wins the election. And Grayson is well ahead in the polls.'

'Was well ahead,' Xavier corrected. 'Her lead halved overnight. The terrorist actions of this 'Fever Pitch' may have done our campaign irreparable damage.'

'But surely, Professor…he's only one mutant,' Ororo protested.

'The general public are already frightened of us, Ororo,' Xavier replied. 'Fever Pitch only proves them right. It's infinitely harder to prove we are not a threat than that we are.'

Xavier wheeled his chair round so that he could look out of the window. A group of students were throwing a Frisbee around by the ornamental fountain. One flicked his wrist and the skin of his fingers extended six feet in length, snagged the Frisbee in mid-air and then snapped back like elastic. The boy hurled the Frisbee up in the air with such force that it looked sure to sail over the hedge. Then a girl caught hold of it. She was floating in the air, fragile as a feather caught in the breeze.

'Until further notice, I want all students confined to the school grounds,' Xavier instructed. 'It's not safe for them out there. Not anymore.'

'Very good, Professor,' Ororo said. 'Will that be all? I ought to be going if I'm to attend that press conference.'

Xavier nodded.

'Send the Doctor to see me before you go,' Xavier said. 'I think it's time we had a little chat.'

'And Mrs Harker?'

'Get one of the students to give her the guided tour,' Xavier suggested. 'That should keep her entertained.

'Can we trust them, Professor?' Ororo asked.

'I sense confusion from Mrs Harker, but no outright hostility,' Xavier assured her.

'And the Doctor?'

'We shall have to see.'

* * *

__

'Hello, I'm Doug. Doug Ramsey.'

I regard the new arrival with apprehension. A teenager, he seems harmless enough, but I have already seen that these children have hidden talents. The Doctor has already been spirited away (metaphorically speaking) and I am acutely aware of my own vulnerability. I watch him warily, waiting for him to reveal his secret powers.

I cannot help myself. I laugh.

'What's so funny?' Doug asks, though he seems more amused than annoyed.

'I'm sorry,' I manage, composing myself hastily. 'I was picturing you sprouting wings or shooting fire from your fingers.'

Doug grins broadly and in that instant I decide I can trust him.

'Sorry, no can do,' he says, trying to appear crestfallen, but failing miserably. 'You must be Mrs Harker.'

'Please,' I say, offering my hand, 'call me Mina.'

'Mina it is, then,' he agrees and we shake on it.

'So?' I prompt after a long pause.

'Sorry,' Doug responds, grinning again. 'I was thinking about something else. I get easily distracted.'

'Really?'

He nods vigorously.

'Kitty and I have this project, you see,' he enthuses, 'for computer science class, but there's this section of code we can't quite get to work. The thing is that it should work, at least as far as I can tell. It's a simple enough program. So I'm trying to run through the whole program to see if the problem is somewhere else and…I'm sorry, I'm boring you, aren't I.'

'No, no,' I assure him. Actually, his enthusiasm is infectious. I wish I had had more like him in my own classes. 'It's just, well, we don't have computers where I come from so I'm finding it a little difficult to follow you.'

'No computers?' Doug exclaims. 'Where are_ you from? I thought you were British.'_

'Oh, I am,' I inform him. 'I suppose that it's not so much where I'm from as when. I'm from the nineteenth century.'

I allow myself a moment of satisfaction as Doug's jaw hits the floor.

* * *

'Please have a seat,' Xavier offered his guest.

The Doctor sat down opposite him.

'Welcome,' Xavier begins. 'I am Professor Charles Xavier and this is my school for the gifted.'

'By gifted you mean mutants,' the Doctor replied. 'Human beings born with a genetic difference that marks them apart from their fellows. Possibly the next stage in human evolution. But human beings fear what they do not understand and they hate what they fear so mutants are persecuted by their non-mutant brethren. Which is where you come in. You seek out these young mutants and offer them sanctuary here at this school where they can learn to better control their 'gifts'. Am I getting warm yet?'

'Surprisingly so,' Xavier responded, 'almost as if you'd read my mind, Doctor..?'

'I don't read minds,' the Doctor said. 'I merely make inferences based on known facts.'

'I do read minds, Doctor,' Xavier continued. 'That is my mutation. But your mind is a closed book to me.'

The Doctor leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.

'There is a theory regarding telepathy,' he began. 'It runs something like this. The telepath observes, through whatever means, the structure of the brain they are trying to read. They then alter the structure of their own brain to be in sympathy with the target. The result allows the telepath to read the target's thoughts. That may also explain why telepathy and telekinesis often go hand in hand since it's only a small step from altering the physical structure of ones own brain to altering the structure of the external environment.'

'I've heard of this theory,' Xavier said, 'but I don't see how it's relevant.'

The Doctor held up a hand.

'My brain is not structured like a human mind,' he explained, 'so it would be impossible for you to reshape your own brain in sympathy. Hence, I am unreadable.'

'Hmm,' Xavier mused. 'That would tie in with my observations. The medical scans we made of you when you arrived were…anomalous, to say the least.'

'You do surprise me.'

'I was going to send them to an associate of mine, Dr Henry McCoy, for a second opinion,' Xavier said, 'but perhaps you would care to enlighten me yourself. You lack the X-factor gene so you are not a mutant. In fact you're whole DNA structure is decidedly…'

'Inhuman?' the Doctor supplied.

'Quite,' Xavier agreed. 'So what are you.'

The Doctor grinned, flashing gleaming white teeth.

'That's easy,' he replied. 'I'm a native of the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. So there.'

* * *

The common room was crowded. One group were hanging decorations from the ceiling, another were crowded around a board game. A few more were gathered round the widescreen TV. Sitting towards the back of this group was Rachel.

It took Scott a while to spot her. Rachel had short red hair, something that would normally make her stand out, but colour was wasted on Scott. In order to control his mutation he was forced to wear special ruby quartz glasses. As a result, he only ever saw the world in shades of red.

It should not have been this way. Scott should have been in full control of his gifts, but there had been an accident, a plane crash. The crash had left Scott an orphan and the impact to his skull when he fell had robbed him of control over his gifts. His last full colour memory was of the face of his mother as she strapped little Scott into the only parachute and pushed him from the plane.

Scott shook his head. That was all in the past.

'Rachel,' he called over the noise. 'Could I have a word?'

'Um, sure.'

Rachel got up and Scott led her to a quiet - well, quieter - corner of the room.

'I just wanted to ask you about yesterday,' Scott began.

'I told Ororo everything I know,' Rachel replied. She folded her arms across her chest.

'I know,' Scott said, 'but I just wanted to hear it for myself. Are you okay?'

'I'm fine,' Rachel replied, tersely. She glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting someone.

'Well, if you're sure,' Scott continued, 'but you know I'm here to talk to if you need me. And that must have been pretty scary what with that robot and-'

'I said I'm fine,' Rachel snapped. 'What's wrong with you?'

'Rachel, I'm only trying to help,' Scott responded.

'How? By pawing away at something that's none of you're damn business?'

'I though you were fine about it.'

'Well, I'm not, okay,' Rachel shouted. 'Every time I close my eyes I see that Sentinel again. Only I don't just see one, I see a hundred. And I see them marching up and down the ruined streets of New York, smoke and ash filling the sky and choking the mutants being penned in by the barbed wire fences. And one by one they lead the mutants out of the camps and then they…'

Rachel choked back a sob.

'Just leave me the hell alone,' she snapped, turning and scurrying back into the crowded room.

Scott made a move to go after her, but felt a restraining hand on his arm.

'Leave her be, my friend,' Kurt said. 'We'll look after her.'

'At least let me talk to her, Kurt,' Scott insisted. 'Something's obviously wrong and-'

'We'll handle it,' Kurt interrupted. 'The best thing you can do is to leave Rachel to us.'

'There's something seriously wrong here. You must see that.' Scott said. Then it dawned on him. 'You know what it is, don't you? Tell me, Kurt. I can help.'

'I think you've done quite enough, Scott,' Kurt replied. 'Don't you.'

'Kurt, please don't shut me out. I'm one of the family.'

Kurt shook his head.

'You left, Scott,' he said, 'and while you are always welcome here, you're no longer part of the team.'

* * *

'Well?' Danielle Moonstar asked as Sam Guthrie put down the phone.

'Yeah, come on. Spill,' Illyana said. She was lying on her stomach on the floor drawing pictures in a sketchbook. Her brother was the artist of the family, but Illyana enjoyed drawing rough sketches of demons and monsters. If asked, she claimed to draw from life.

'That was Lila,' Sam explained, running a hand through his blond hair. 'She's playing a gig in the city this week so when that's over she thought she'd head up here and join us for Christmas.'

'That's great news,' Dani remarked.

'Yeah,' Illyana added, 'especially for one lucky person.'

'Get in there, Sam,' Dani joked.

'Lay off, Chief,' Sam replied. 'Lila and I are just good friends.'

'Sure you are,' Illyana responded. 'So, what are you gonna get her?'

* * *

'And?' Xavier asked. 'I'd already reasoned that you were most likely an alien and since I've never heard of either Gallifrey or Kasterborous, I can't say that you've increased my knowledge at all.'

'Ah,' the Doctor murmured. 'Then what is it you'd like to know?'

'I'd like to know if I can trust you, Doctor,' Xavier said. 'I can't read you telepathically and your alien heritage means that I can hardly expect you to behave in a human fashion so I can't begin to speculate on your agenda. But I need to know if that agenda conflicts with my own.'

'I don't have an agenda, professor,' the Doctor assured him.

Xavier leaned forward.

'Really, Doctor. I find that rather difficult to believe. What is it that you do with your life? What do you hope to achieve?'

'Universal peace,' the Doctor replied with a smile. 'And I like kittens, too.'

'This is a serious matter, Doctor,' Xavier insisted.

'No it isn't,' the Doctor retorted. 'I explore time and space and I help people. It's as simple as that. I don't have time for your political games and agendas, professor. They simply don't interest me.'

'You travel in time,' Xavier repeated.

'You don't sound surprised,' the Doctor remarked.

'As with your alien origins, it was a possibility I had already considered,' Xavier replied. 'There's your unfamiliarity with the current political situation, your dress sense and your associate's blood.'

'What about Mina's blood?'

'It doesn't contain any of the antibodies you would expect in a child born in the First World in the latter part of the twentieth century. All children receive a myriad of vaccinations and yet she appears to have received not a one.'

'Perhaps her parents were against needles,' the Doctor suggested.

'Possibly,' Xavier agreed, 'but I have another reason to believe your claim.'

'And that is?'

'I've already met a time traveller,' Xavier said. 'Come with me and I'll introduce you to her.'

* * *

__

'You really travel in time? That's so cool!'

Now that Douglas has overcome his initial shock, he is brimming with questions. Unfortunately, I do not have the answers.

'So, what's the future like?' he asks. 'Are we really going to get flying cars like in the comics. And what about the computers? I bet it's all holograms and virtual reality and artificial intelligences, am I right? Heck, maybe we even get sockets in the backs of our heads so we can plug directly into our PCs. I'm sure I saw that in a movie once.'

'I'm sorry, Doug, but I don't know,' I admit. 'This is as far into the future as I've travelled.'

'Oh.'

Doug is clearly disappointed, but, to his credit, he is trying valiantly to hide it.

'You don't seem surprised that I travel in time,' I say.

'Everyone knows time travel's theoretically possible,' Doug tells me. 'Everyone with access to the Internet, anyway.'

'I'm sorry. Internet?' I ask.

'The Internet. The World Wide Web. The Information Superhighway.'

I look at Doug blankly.

He looks puzzled, then slaps his forehead with the heel of his hand.

'Sorry, I'm being an idiot, aren't I,' he says. 'I keep forgetting you're a hundred years out of date. Here, let me show you.'

He switches on one of the machines - a computer, so he tells me - in the infirmary.

'First I've got to log on with my secret password,' he explains mock seriously, 'then the computer connects to the web via phone lines. The web is basically this network of lots and lots of computers and they can all communicate and share data with each other.'

'This is fantastic,' I say as I lean closer to look at the colourful shapes that are appearing on the screen. 'And you can use this to access information from anywhere in the world?'

'Yes,' Doug replies. 'You're really into this stuff, aren't you? I mean, you're interested in this.'

'Yes, I am,' I say. 'Is that bad?'

'No, it's pretty cool, actually,' Doug says. 'It's just most visitors to the school, not that we get many, want to know about our powers, what we can do and so on. I don't get much of a chance to chat about things I'm into.'

I shrug.

'I'm used to people with strange powers,' I tell him, 'but we don't have computers where I come from. Still, while we're on the subject, would you mind explaining to me exactly what a 'mutant' is?'

* * *

The laboratory was not underground, nor was it secret. Actually, Vaughan had been tempted to have it built underground simply for his own amusement, but had decided that was too ostentatious. Besides, it would have taken too long to construct and Vaughan was a man in a hurry.

The Ranson Genetics Research Facility was hardly world famous, but nor was its work a mystery. It was not unknown for local media crews to interview members of its staff when they wanted a scientific opinion for a story regarding genetics. The Ranson Facility's publicly stated goal was to conduct research into the human genome with the aim of improving the health of mankind. All of this was true, of course, but probably not in the way most people thought.

Vaughan found Dr Rudolph Hitch in laboratory B3 on the second floor of the building. Hitch had been employed to act as an administrator, a paper-pusher, but someone with his qualifications found it difficult to keep away from where the real action was.

'Good morning, Doctor,' Vaughan said as he walked across the lab, his cane tapping on the tiled floor.

'Ah, Mr Vaughan. Always a pleasure,' the little man replied. He did not offer his hand in greeting. Vaughan would not have taken it. 'I take it you're here to check up on our progress.'

'That's what I like about you, Rudolph,' Vaughan said with a sharp laugh, 'you always get straight to the point. Well?'

'Slow but steady progress, sir. Slow but steady.'

'I don't pay you for slow,' Vaughan warned.

'Ah, no, of course not, sir.' Dr Hitch pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his lab coat and wiped the sweat from his baldpate. 'Perhaps you'd care to see what Dr Currie's been up to?'

'I had better not be disappointed, Rudolph,' Vaughan said. 'I would hate for this facility to suddenly and inexplicably lose its funding.'

'I'm sure it won't come to that, sir,' Dr Hitch said as he led Vaughan to a bench at the front of the lab. 'Anita, would you mind telling Mr Vaughan what we've discovered lately.'

'Of course,' Currie said. 'Mr Vaughan, how much do you know about our work here?'

'I read every one of the reports to come out of this building,' Vaughan informed her.

'Then I had better summarise from the beginning,' Currie continued. 'As you are aware, a mutant is a human being with beyond human abilities. Specifically, a mutant can be defined as a human with an x-factor gene.'

'Dr Currie,' Vaughan interrupted impatiently, 'I do not appreciate being patronised. I am not an imbecile.'

'With respect, sir, neither are you a scientist,' Currie shot back. 'If you expect me to explain my work in a way you'll understand then I need to guarantee that you have a certain basic level of knowledge. Alternatively, you can go back to watching the Discovery Channel and leave the rest of us alone to get some actual work done.'

'Oh my.' Dr Hitch removed his glasses and began polishing them frantically.

The corners of Vaughan's mouth curled up in amusement.

'Please continue, Dr Currie,' he said.

* * *

__

'All living things contain DNA,' Doug explains to me, 'and it's the DNA that makes us who we are. The DNA sequence of every living thing is unique. Think of the sequence as a set of instructions on how to build you. Are you following me?'

'Just about,' I answer.

'Good, because it's about to get a bit more complicated. This DNA sequence can be subdivided into discrete units called genes and it's these genes or combinations of these genes that define our characteristics. Hair or eye colour, for example, is encoded in your genes.

'Now, a child gets half its genetic information from its father and half from its mother and hence should only be able to display characteristics that were already present in the genetic information of its parents. A child of blond parents might have red hair, but only if its parents already had the code for red hair in their genes, even though they weren't displaying it. 

'However, if the DNA is mutated or changed in some way, then that child might display characteristics unique to it. And, scientifically speaking, that child would be a mutant.

'The term mutant as we use it here and as it has become commonly used outside as well, means something slightly different, though.'

* * *

'The definition of a mutant is a human being with an x-factor gene,' Currie said. 'However, this is simply a change at one locus so how can that account for the vast array of abilities displayed by mutants? If you turn on and off the same gene in different subjects you should affect the same characteristic in all subjects.'

'Our experiments in this area have shown this to be false,' Dr Hitch added. 'Having isolated the x-factor gene, it is relatively simply to use genetic engineering to manufacture mutants. Craig Miller was one of the products of that program. However, we are unable to predict the results of these experiments. In Mr Miller's case, although we granted him mutant abilities, the mutation would have been terminal, had he not met his end at the hands of your machine, that is.'

'Mr Miller knew the risks when he volunteered,' Vaughan said. 'Please continue, Dr Currie.'

* * *

__

'The missing link is something called 'junk DNA',' Doug continues. 'A large proportion of our DNA appears to have no function in determining who or what we are, hence the name 'junk DNA'. It's of no value. And yet it exists. And the reason it exists is because there is actually useful genetic information encoded into that sequence. It's just that normal humans can't access it.'

'Because they don't have this x-factor,' I deduce.

'Exactly,' Doug agrees. 'Think of the x-factor as like…well, like the power-switch on this computer. The computer can do all these fantastic things, but I can't access any of them if the power isn't switched on. And it's the same with the junk DNA. Without an x-factor it's like a computer with no power - useless.'

* * *

'So you see, Mr Vaughan,' Currie explained, 'the real holy grail isn't the x-factor, it's the genetic sequence in the junk DNA that determines the specific ability.'

'And what of the theory that a mutant's personality influences the development of their abilities. I've read about children with claustrophobia growing wings when they reach puberty. There was a case in California where a girl who was neglected at school became invisible.'

'There's no scientific foundation for that theory,' Dr Hitch replied. 'I do have a team looking into it, but it's hardly the focus of our researches here.' 

'This is what we wanted you to see, Mr Vaughan,' Currie said, pointing to the screen in front of her. 'Over the past few months I've been developing a genetic marker that I could inject into a subject. I then scan them while they are performing a certain activity and feed the results into my computer.'

'And?' Vaughan prompted.

'The marker first identifies the cells used in a particular activity. Providing the subject is still growing, the marker can isolate these cells at the site they are produced and show me which genes are responsible for the creation of said cells. The ideal mutant subject would be an adolescent, one going through puberty. Give me the right subject and I'll show you, with a reasonable degree of accuracy, which genes are responsible for their powers.'

'Reasonable degree of accuracy?' Vaughan said. 'I'm not sure that that is satisfactory.'

'In the good old days,' Dr Hitch explained, 'we would have used a series of identical subjects and deleted different genes from each in order to determine what those genes did.'

'Unfortunately, it's practically impossible to come up with a sequence of identical mutants. They're all unique so we're having to develop new techniques to cope. Yes there is an element of doubt in our procedures, but I'm confident that the accuracy level is sufficient for your purposes. In any event, it's bound to be more reliable than that grafting process Dr Hitch used to use.'

'Ahem,' Dr Hitch choked.

'Actually, I was rather fond of grafting, myself,' Vaughan said.

Delicately, he peeled the black glove from his left hand. The skin beneath was green and covered with seeping sores. The fingertips curled into razor-sharp talons.

'The problem with grafting,' he continued, enjoying the way his claws caught the light, 'is that you are extremely limited in what abilities you can copy. I trust that won't be an issue with your process, Dr Currie?'

Currie gulped, her eyes fixed on the hand in front of her.

'No, sir,' she managed.

'Good,' Vaughan said, 'because I intend to deliver you your first batch of test subjects by tomorrow morning. And I expect results.'


	4. Episode Three

Episode Three

'You'll have to do better than that,' Rachel shouted as she telekinetically yanked a boulder off of the ground and used it to shield herself from Sam.

Seeing the obstruction, Sam swerved upwards, flying towards the ceiling of the arena and past the observation platform where the Doctor was watching proceedings.

He frowned.

'You don't approve, do you?' Xavier deduced.

'They're practising to use their powers in combat,' the Doctor said. 

Below, Illyana teleported into view in front of Danielle. She thrust out her arm and stuck the disc strapped to Dani's chest.

A siren sounded.

'A confirmed kill,' Kurt said into the microphone. He was sitting near to the Doctor, monitoring the situation. 'Well done, Illyana. Dani, you're out of the game.'

With a wave to the observers above, Dani jogged out of the arena and headed for the showers.

'I thought you were trying to help these children,' the Doctor continued, 'not turn them into your own private army.'

'Is that what you think this is?' Xavier asked.

'It certainly looks that way,' the Doctor replied.

Xavier sighed.

'I have to know that these children can defend themselves,' he explained.

'This is your great solution,' the Doctor mocked. 'To meet violence with more violence. Forgive me if I'm somewhat less than impressed.'

'Doctor,' Kurt interjected, 'I don't think you understand.'

'Oh, I understand all too well,' the Doctor said. 'You're supposed to be the next stage in evolution, more advanced than human beings, but you're still no better than Neanderthals, solving all your problems with the strength of your fists. You should be trying to educate, trying to reach peaceful solutions not escalating the conflict.'

'Doctor,' Kurt said, 'when the professor found me I was about to be burned at the stake by an angry mob. I wish I could have reasoned with them, but do you think they would have listened to me. I mean, look at me, Doctor. Can you really blame them?'

Kurt stared defiantly up at the Doctor, his eyes blazing, his indigo fur bristling. He looked ever inch a demon given form and substance.

The Doctor was unrepentant.

'I blame anyone who uses force to solve problems,' he said. 'As if humanity didn't have enough weapons already, now they're breeding them.'

'Like it or not, sometimes force is the only answer,' Xavier insisted.

'I won't accept that,' the Doctor replied, then added softly, 'I can't.'

Xavier turned away.

'Kurt,' he said, 'call a halt to today's session, would you. And ask Rachel to meet us in the rose garden.'

* * *

'So, what did he say?'

Illyana was waiting for Sam outside of the changing rooms.

'You did ask him, didn't you?' she persisted.

'Didn't have to,' Sam replied. He was still drying his hair. 'The professor picked the thought right out of my mind.'

'And?'

'No.'

'No?' Illyana repeated. 'That was it? No?'

'No student is to leave the school grounds,' Sam explained, draping the towel across his shoulders, 'and certainly not for Christmas shopping.'

'But didn't you explain about Lila?'

'I did,' Sam assured her, 'and the professor is officially sympathetic.'

'But no?'

'No.'

'But that's not fair,' Illyana protested, pouting. 'We couldn't have known Lila was going to be here.'

'Hey, you don't need to convince me,' Sam said defensively.

'We can't not get her something,' Illyana continued. 'Not after she's come all that way.'

'It's not like we have a choice,' Sam pointed out.

Illyana chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.

'Maybe we do,' she said at last.

* * *

The Doctor sat with his back to the ornamental fountain as he ran his thumb over the petals of a white rose.

'I used to have a rose garden,' he said. 'It may still exists somewhere, but I haven't been there in a very long time. I shudder to think what shape it's in.'

'Some things need constant care and attention,' Xavier remarked. 'I've been building this up since I inherited the mansion from my parents. There are no quick fixes to gardening, just a lot of patience.'

'That probably explains why I'm no good at it,' the Doctor replied.

'Here comes Rachel,' Xavier said, looking passed the Doctor.

'You, er, wanted to see me, Professor,' Rachel said, nervously brushing a stray lock of red hair back over her ear. She was bundled in a jacket and scarf to protect her from the cold.

'Have a seat,' Xavier offered. Rachel sat down on a stone bench. 'The Doctor claims to be a time traveller. I thought it might be a benefit if he were to hear your story.'

'Do I have to?' Rachel asked uncomfortably.

'Would you prefer me to tell it?' Xavier asked. Rachel nodded. 'Very well, but you must correct me if I'm wrong.' He turned to the Doctor. 'Rachel believes that she comes from twenty years into our future.'

'Really?' The Doctor leaned forward with interest. 'Excuse me,' he said to Rachel, 'this is going to sound terribly forward of me, but do you mind if I take your hand?'

'Um, okay.'

Rachel ran one hand through her short red hair while extending the other, tentatively, towards the Doctor. He took her small hand in both of his.

She snatched her hand back sharply.

The Doctor arched an eyebrow. Rachel looked away.

'Your hands are cold,' she mumbled.

'This I know,' the Doctor agreed. 'I have a lower body temperature than that of a human. But that's not what startled you, is it?'

'Rachel?' Xavier prompted.

'It was like an electric shock,' Rachel admitted reluctantly, 'only not. It's hard to explain.'

'Let me make it easier for you,' the Doctor offered. 'Travellers in time tend to pick up energy, a bit like static electricity. You know that trick where you run a comb through your hair and then you can use the comb to pick up balloons? Or is that just me? Well, time travellers are like that comb. The more they travel in time, the more that energy builds up on them and when two time travellers meet…well, I suppose you could say that they short each other out. Like we just did.'

'So you're saying that Rachel has definitely travelled in time,' Xavier deduced.

'Undoubtedly,' the Doctor confirmed, 'and recently too. You haven't been here more than a couple of months, have you?'

Rachel shook her head.

'Any longer and the energy would have dissipated naturally,' the Doctor explained.

'Fascinating,' Xavier remarked.

'Isn't it just?' the Doctor replied, beaming. 'Now, you were going to tell me a story, weren't you? I'm sitting comfortably if you're ready to begin.'

Xavier folded his hands.

'Rachel comes from the future and the not too distant future at that,' he began. 'In that future it would appear that my dream of peaceful coexistence between humans and mutants has failed utterly. Mutants are treated as second-class citizens, herded into camps and penned behind wire fences.'

'And you were kept in one of these camps?' the Doctor asked Rachel.

She shook her head.

'No. I…'

'You don't have to answer, Rachel,' the professor told her.

'It's okay,' Rachel said. 'No, I wasn't kept in a camp. They used my telepathy to hunt down other mutants. I was nothing more than a mutant bloodhound.'

The Doctor made a steeple with his fingers.

'But how did they maintain order?' he asked. 'How do you control a population who all have parahuman abilities?'

'That's what the Sentinels were for,' Xavier explained.

'Sentinels,' the Doctor repeated. 'Like that robot that attacked us yesterday?'

'Not quite,' Rachel corrected.

'But that's just the prototype,' Xavier continued. 'Imagine what they might be like with another twenty years of development.'

'So you think this might be the beginning of the end,' the Doctor deduced.

'I hope and pray not.' 

Xavier looked past the Doctor to the naked branches of a tree. A robin perched among them, singing cheerfully.

'At the moment, we're caught between two political forces,' Xavier said. 'Both are using the mutant issue to try and win votes and I'm throwing my support behind the one that supports us in the hope that Campbell's side - the one that's developing these Sentinels - never gets in to power.'

'In my experience,' the Doctor remarked, 'I find it best not to trust politicians.'

'I couldn't agree more,' Xavier replied, 'but what choice do I have?'

'Doctor!' Mina called. She was shivering, her breath misting in front of her, as she hurried across the garden with Doug in tow.

Professor Xavier rolled his chair over to meet her.

'You must be Mrs Harker,' he said, extending a hand in greeting. 'It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Professor Charles Xavier. I trust Doug has already shown you my school.'

'Yes, it's a fascinating place, professor,' Mina replied. 'Please, call me Mina.'

'In that case, you must call me Charles. Won't you join us?'

Mina sat down.

'So,' Charles asked, 'has Doug been answering all of your questions.'

'Douglas has been most helpful,' Mina replied, 'haven't you?'

Doug looked away, blushing, and Rachel hid a smirk behind her hand.

'I am a little overwhelmed, though, I must admit,' Mina continued.

'How so?'

'Well, it's all these strange and wondrous abilities you seem to possess,' Mina explained. 'I find it a trifle difficult to credit the human form with possessing the capacity for such talents.'

'Even after all you've seen here?' Xavier asked.

'Oh, I'm well aware how easily the human senses can be deceived,' Mina said, 'and given the difficulty in reconciling what I see with what I know…'

'You think this is all smoke and mirrors,' Xavier concluded. 'That would be some trick.'

'I confess that the thought had crossed my mind,' Mina admitted, 'but equally I cannot see how such a deception might be accomplished.'

'So you've reached the boundary between experience and enlightenment,' the Doctor said, 'between what you know and what you've yet to learn.'

'Doctor,' Mina began, 'I know you mean well, but I would appreciate not being patronised.'

'Sorry,' said the Doctor, looking suitably chastened, 'but it's difficult for me, you see. From my point of view, all of these mysteries have been resolved, but from the perspective of the nineteenth century science you're used to - or even of the science of today - there's still so much left to learn. I envy you that, you know, your opportunity to discover all of these things for the first time.'

'So if there is an explanation,' Mina said, 'perhaps you wouldn't mind telling the ignorant humans what it is?'

'Sorry,' the Doctor apologised. 'Was I being patronising again?'

'Rather,' Mina confirmed.

'Right. I shall have to watch that.'

Mina cleared her throat.

'An explanation?' she prompted.

'Well, telepathy and telekinesis are easy,' the Doctor replied.

'So you're not going to tell us how it's done,' Mina replied.

'I can't give you all the answers,' the Doctor insisted. 'Some things you're just going to have to work out for yourself.'

('You're right,' Rachel whispered to Mina. 'He is patronising, isn't he?')

'Suffice it to say,' the Doctor continued, 'that the majority of the brain's capabilities remain a mystery. There is so much in that head of yours that you don't appear to use.'

('He says the sweetest things, too,' Mina whispered back.)

'How difficult is it to accept that some of that capacity might hold the secret to unlocking innate extrasensory powers?' the Doctor asked. 'Many authorities of the twentieth century accepted telepathy as a theoretical possibility even if they were unable to prove its existence.

'And what of flight? Take a look at that robin over there. You're happy to accept that that can fly. How difficult is it to imagine the same mechanics applied to a human being. Granted it would take more substantial physiological changes than simply growing wings, but it's hardly outside the realm of plausibility, is it?'

'Very well, perhaps, just perhaps, I can accept that,' Mina said, folding her arms, 'but how exactly do you explain the ability to instantaneously transport oneself from one place to another.'

'Well, ah…'

'We prefer the term 'teleport',' Xavier interrupted, 'and I think I have an explanation. Kurt and Illyana, our resident teleporters, are able to open a doorway to a parallel dimension. Now, in such a dimension there is no reason to believe that the same physical laws would apply as can be found in our own. Thus, within that dimension, they are able to travel much faster, possibly even fold space and time.'

'You're positing the existence of a realm which breaks all known physical laws,' the Doctor mused, 'which makes all scientific debate of the issue pretty meaningless. But do carry on.'

'Thank you,' Xavier said, 'you're so kind. As I was saying, Kurt and Illyana are able to enter and exit this dimension at will. Kurt retains no memory of the experience, but Illyana, curiously, seems able to perceive this other realm. She's even given it a name: Limbo.'

'I remember,' Mina said, shuddering as she recalled her brief teleportation experience. 'It was a vision of hell itself if ever I have seen one.'

'It really is nothing to concern yourself with,' Xavier assured her. 'It's merely your mind's way of rationalising an environment the human body doesn't have the senses to perceive properly. Limbo is perfectly harmless.'

'Possibly,' the Doctor murmured.

'You disagree?' Xavier asked.

'No, no,' the Doctor replied, 'just wondering.'

'Wondering what?'

'Wondering what Illyana makes of it all.'

'Illyana is prone to flights of fancy,' Xavier replied. 'You know what teenagers are like.'

'Not really, no,' the Doctor admitted. 'My experience is that I fail to understand them at all.'

'Regardless,' Xavier insisted, 'there is no evidence that this other realm is in any way dangerous.'

'And how precisely would you measure such evidence,' the Doctor queried, 'given that your 'other realm' defies all known physical laws?'

Xavier ignored him.

'Do you have any other questions I can help you with?' he asked Mina.

'Just one,' Mina responded. 'Am I the only one who thinks it's freezing out here?'

Xavier smiled.

'Perhaps it would be best if we all returned inside,' he agreed and he began propelling his chair back towards the main school building.

'Professor! Professor!'

A small brunette was pounding up the path towards them, a long blue scarf trailing behind her.

Xavier stopped and waited for her to reach him.

'Kitty,' he asked, 'what is it?'

She was bent double, hands on her thighs, gasping for air.

'Deep breaths,' the Doctor suggested. 'That tends to work best.'

'I just remembered,' she panted. 'I've got my dance lesson this afternoon.'

'And?' Xavier prompted.

'And you said we couldn't leave campus,' Kitty replied.

'That's correct,' Xavier confirmed, 'and I'll tell you what I told Sam earlier. I'm not prepared to put any of my charges at risk. Until this Sentinel problem has passed, I cannot allow you to put yourself in harm's way. You'll just have to phone Miss Hunter and tell her that you can't make it.'

'But, professor…'

'What if I were to accompany her?' the Doctor suggested. 'Mina and I are stuck here until my TARDIS completes its self-repair cycle and I'd like to help out if I may.'

'Well, I don't know,' Xavier said, scratching his chin.

'I haven't survived this long by taking any unnecessary risks,' the Doctor pointed out. 'I give you my word I'll bring her back safe and sound.'

'Well, Kitty, what do you say?' Xavier asked her.

Kitty practically jumped for joy.

* * *

A platform had been erected in the square the night before. Folding chairs had been arranged in rank and file in front of it and reporters now perched on them, huddled in heavy coats. An awning hung above them, to protect against the - thankfully non-existent - rain.

'Bloody stupid idea,' one reporter grumbled. 'Holding a press conference outside in December.'

'Campbell's not doing himself any favours with a stunt like this,' his colleague agreed.

To the west of the square a crowd had gathered. Many carried placards with slogans such as 'God Hates Muties!', 'Humans First!' and 'The only GOOD MUTANT is a DEAD MUTANT'. A blue line of policemen held them back.

There was a similar situation on the opposite side of the square, only here the banners read 'Stand up for Mutant Rights!', 'Mutants are people too' and 'Two Eyes GOOD, Three Eyes BETTER!'.

'Ugly looking lot, aren't they?' the first reporter said, glancing nervously from side to side.

'Makes me wonder if we wouldn't be better supporting one of the fringe candidates,' his colleague replied. 'You know, the ones with the sensible policies.'

At this point, Ashley Campbell himself climbed on to the stage. There was polite applause from those in seats accompanied by bigger roars from the crowds on either side of the square. Campbell blinked repeatedly as he was assailed by the light of dozens of cameras snapping away at him.

'Thank you all for coming,' Campbell shouted when things had calmed down somewhat. 

He took a booklet from the lectern and held it up in his right hand.

'This is what I came to talk to you about,' he continued. 'My manifesto. My personal commitment to the people of the city. To you guys.'

'How long do you think this is going to go on for?' the reporter whispered.

'As I say, that's what I came to talk to you about,' Campbell said, 'but that's not really what you're interested in, is it? That's not what you want to hear. No, you want to hear about my stance on the mutant issue. Well, this is my position. I think mutants are tragic individuals, suffering a terrible curse. But, intentionally or otherwise, they are dangerous. And I won't allow a minority to pose a threat to the vast majority made up of perfectly innocent Americans!'

'And just how to you hope to do that,' someone shouted.

'Good question,' Campbell called back. 'A very good question. I hope that most mutants will give themselves up willingly, but, like many of you, I'm a realist, and I accept that there is going to be resistance. But I am prepared to meet that. And to show you how, allow me to introduce Sebastian Vaughan, head of Vaughan Industries and a close personal friend.'

'Let's not push it, Ashley,' Vaughan muttered as he hobbled on to the stage with the help of his cane.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' Vaughan said, 'like many of you I am deeply concerned by the mutant question. As many of you no doubt already know, I don't have any children of my own, but every morning, as I'm driven from my apartment to my office, we drive past a school and I watch these young people running about and kicking a ball and just having a good time. And I think to myself just how easy it would be for a mutant walk through the wall into that school and hurt those kids. Or for a mutant to vaporise them with laser beams shot from his eyes. Or for a mutant to tear those little bodies apart with his teeth and his claws.

'And those thoughts disgust me, ladies and gentlemen.'

Vaughan paused and took a sip from a glass of water.

'Forgive me,' he continued. 'I don't normally go off like that.

'Now, I know that many of you have similar fears, but what can you do about it? Well, that's the difference between you and I, you see, because I, with the full resources of my company behind me, I am in a position to make a difference. My company has been working tirelessly to develop a solution to this problem and I am proud to announce that, at long last, we have succeeded.

'Ladies and gentlemen, may I present The Sentinel!'

And Vaughan tilted back his head and looked up into the sky.

And the reporters on their folding seats imitated him, squinting in the bright sunlight.

And the crowds around the square, both mutant lovers and haters, looked up and saw a tiny black shape slowly descending, getting closer and larger, and many began to shout and point.

And at the back of the press pack, Ororo and Marie both watched the figure. Alone among the crowd, they knew what it was, what it represented, and it filled them with dread.

The robot, its descent checked by rockets built into its boots, came to rest next to Vaughan.

For a long moment there was silence as the spectators took in the Sentinel's skull-like mask, the silver armour and the weapons that bristled across the seven-foot tall robot.

Campbell stepped forward.

'Ladies and gentlemen, may I present my administration's response to the mutant question,' he began, 'and humanity's defence against the mutant menace. I give you…The Sentinel.'

And the crowd went wild.

The police were overwhelmed as the protestors on either side of the square surged forward as if in response to some prearranged signal.

Then the fighting started.

* * *

'We should do something,' Campbell said as he watched in horror as the square erupted into violence.

Vaughan raised a hand.

'No, leave them be, Ashley,' he said. 'Let this serve as an example of exactly the kind of thing you want to prevent. Think of the opinion polls.'

'I guess,' Campbell said hesitantly. 'I just don't like seeing people get hurt, that's all.'

Vaughan laughed.

'And you call yourself a politician.'

* * *

Ororo and Marie crouched down between the rows of seats to avoid the improvised missiles being thrown overhead.

'This is crazy,' Marie said. She had a thick southern accent. 'We should do something.'

'I am,' Ororo said as her eyes clouded over with milky whiteness.

Dark clouds began to gather in the sky above them. Very dark clouds. Thunder cracked and rumbled, echoing through the streets. 

And then the hail began to fall.

Great big golf ball sized chunks of ice hurtled from the sky. They tore to shreds the awning set up over the square. 

After less than a minute of this form of pelting, the fight went out of the rioters and they ran for cover.

Soon Ororo and Marie were alone in the square, kneeling in a small patch of dry ground, hail falling on all sides.

Alone, that is, except for the Sentinel.

'Unregistered mutant life-signs detected,' it grated. 'Proceeding with termination.'

Ororo and Marie dove out of the way as the robot opened fire on their position.

Still lying on her back, Marie lifted up one of the folding chairs and used her superior strength to bend the metal frame, straightening it out until she had formed a javelin. Then she sat up and hurled the weapon in a single movement. The javelin passed through the Sentinel's chest, coming to a halt with its point protruding from the robot's back.

But still the Sentinel continued to advance.

'What does it take to kill this thing?' Marie asked in disbelief.

'Let us find out,' Ororo replied, her eyes clouding over again. There was a crack of thunder and a lightning bolt shot from the heavens and struck the end of Marie's javelin. Blue-white electric arcs crackled across the Sentinel's body and it juddered and shook as if it were having a seizure. 

Then the shaking stopped and the Sentinel continued to advance.

'Any more bight ideas?' Marie asked, ''cos Ah think we're just making him mad.'

'Run,' Ororo shouted.

They ran.

As they left the square a black car pulled up in front of them. The rear door swung open.

'Get in,' the driver ordered.

'Well?' Marie asked Ororo.

Ororo looked from the car to the advancing Sentinel and then back to the car.

'In,' she said before diving inside.

* * *

Nathan Christopher Summers gurgled happily as his father made shadow puppets that danced across the wall.

'Why do they all look like bunny rabbits?' Madelyne asked. 'And deformed bunny rabbits at that?'

'If you can do better, be my guest,' Scott replied, looking up at his wife. She sat down next to him on the bed.

'Are you okay, honey?' she asked. 'It's just that you're so…'

'So?'

'I don't know,' Madelyne admitted sulkily. 'But whatever it is that's how you seem.'

Scott smiled.

'Guess I'll just have to take you word for it,' he said.

The smile faded.

'There,' Madelyne said, suddenly pouncing. 'You're doing it again.'

'Doing what again?' Scott asked, lifting Nathan up in his arms as the baby squirmed in his lap and tried to dive on to the floor.

Madelyne cocked her head to one side and concentrated.

'What?' Scott asked.

'I'm thinking,' Madelyne shot back petulantly.

'You look like you're in pain.'

Madelyne stuck her tongue out at him.

'For that, you get to hold the baby,' Scott said, handing over Nathan who was trying in vain to grab hold of his father's nose.

'You just don't appreciate how much sexier a man can look when he's holding a baby,' Madelyne said, gently rocking Nathan.

'Now that you come to mention it,' Scott mused, 'no, I don't.'

'I've seen the way all the girls here have been following you around,' Madelyne commented.

'They're just after Nathan,' Scott replied. 'I think we're making them all broody.'

'That's it,' Madelyne exclaimed. 'That's what you were doing. Brooding.'

'I was?' Scott asked.

'Yes.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'Oh.'

'Oh? Is that all you've got to say?' Madelyne asked. 'I worry about you, you know.'

'There's nothing to worry about,' Scott insisted.

'Scott?'

'Yes?'

'Don't lie. You're not very good at it.'

'Ah.'

'Well?'

'You're not going to leave this alone, are you,' Scott deduced.

'No,' Madelyne agreed. After a long silence, she added, 'So?'

'I'm just…well, I guess I'm concerned, that's all,' Scott admitted. 'And it feels like I'm being cut out of the loop.'

'How so?' Madelyne asked.

'Oh, it's just something Kurt said,' Scott said, 'about me not being part of the team anymore.'

'Well, he's right, you're not,' Madelyne replied. 'But that was your choice, remember.'

'I know,' Scott agreed. 'After Jean died, well, I guess it put a lot of things in perspective. I realised that I didn't want to spend all of my life fighting. I wanted a future and it was a future I had to make for myself.'

'So what's changed?' Madelyne asked.

'Nothing,' Scott said. 'But just because I left doesn't mean I stopped caring. I still believe in the dream just as much as I ever did. I want to help, but they won't let me.'

'And is that such a bad thing?' Madelyne said. 'You've got a family now. Maybe we need you.'

'I know,' Scott replied. 'It's just that I worry about them. They were my family for a long time, too.'

'And we're lucky to still have them,' Madelyne agreed. 'If only for the times Kitty agrees to baby-sit.'

'Things have changed so much, though, since when I was in charge,' Scott continued. 'Back then mutants were an urban legend and we could operate with a degree of anonymity. Now everything's so public. It's a different world.'

'Then maybe it's a good thing different people are running the show,' Madelyne says. 'It's their world now.'

'Maybe you're right,' Scott conceded sceptically. 

'I know I'm right,' Madelyne said. 'They know you want to help and if they need you they'll ask. Let's just be glad they don't feel the need.

'Please?'

* * *

Loud rock music thumped through the room Illyana shared with Kitty.

'Could we turn that down a bit?' Sam asked over the noise.

'You don't want to be overheard, do you?' Illyana said. She was lying on her bed, fingers drumming on the wall in time to the music.

'Well, no, I guess not,' Sam admitted.

'Then it stays on,' Illyana replied simply.

Rahne Sinclair, curled up on a beanbag, winced at an obscene lyric in the song.

'Should ye really be listening to such stuff?' she asked worriedly, her words laced with a Scots accent.

'Oh, don't be such a baby, Rahne,' Illyana protested. 'I doubt any of us here have anything to fear from a little ungodly music. Ooh scary.'

Rahne frowned, but said nothing.

'Leave her alone, Illyana,' Doug said. 'She's not done anything to you.'

'Yeah, sure,' Illyana muttered. 'Whatever.'

'So, why are we all here?' Dani was sitting on the swivel chair in front of Kitty's PC.

Sam cleared his throat nervously.

'Illyana and I want to run an idea by you,' he said.

'It's about Lila, isn't it?' Dani replied.

'How did you..?'

Doug laughed.

'Oh, come on, Sam,' he joked. 'It's not like you've talked about anything else since you learned she was coming.'

'Am I that bad?' Sam asked, going crimson to the tips of his ears.

'You betcha, farmboy,' Dani said.

'I think it's kind of sweet,' Rahne added.

'Well, I think…' Illyana began.

'Nobody cares, Illyana,' Doug said before she could finish.

She pulled a face at him.

'Anyway, Illyana and I think we've got a way to get us back into town,' Sam continued. 'If you're all up for it, that is.'

'Hang on a minute,' Doug interrupted, turning to Illyana. 'If you're not into Sam and Lila, why are you helping him out?'

'I thought you didn't care, dictionary boy,' Illyana replied.

'Bite me.'

'You wish.'

'Children,' Dani scolded.

'Sorry, chief,' Doug said.

Illyana just yawned.

'Anyway, what's this idea of yours, Illyana?' Dani asked.

'I thought the professor told us we couldnae leave the grounds?' Rahne said, then added hurriedly, 'Sorry, I didnae meant to interrupt.'

'Yes, we're grounded, Rahne,' Illyana responded with forced patience. 'That's why we're planning how to sneak out, doofus!'

'Hey!' Doug protested. 'That wasn't fair.'

'Oh, come _on_!'

Doug put an arm around Rahne.

'She didn't mean it, Rahne,' he said.

'No, she didn't,' Dani agreed, locking eyes with Illyana, 'and she's going to apologise, right now.'

'Says who,' Illyana retorted.

'Says me,' Dani replied calmly.

'You don't scare me,' Illyana said.

Dani said nothing, but continued to match the other girl's stare.

'Oh, all right, I give up,' Illyana said finally, flinging her hands into the air. 'I'm sorry, Rahne. Happy now?'

'I just nae think t'is right we should disobey the professor's orders so,' Rahne said.

'I'm not entirely keen on the idea either, Rahne,' Dani told her, 'but let's hear them out first, okay?'

'You're so kind,' Illyana said.

'Just get on with it,' Doug said. 'You're boring me.'

'Bet you hear that all the time, huh, Dougie.'

'Illyana,' Dani warned. 'Now what's your idea? I'd like to hear exactly how you plan to sneak out past Logan's hyper-senses.'

'Okay, okay,' Illyana said. 'Well, it's easy, really. So easy I'm surprised none of you big brains thought of it. All I've got to do is 'port us to the station. We get a ride into Manhattan there. Logan will never be able to track us.'

'It might work,' Dani mused.

'Of course it will,' Sam insisted.

'What if someone notices we're missing?' Rahne asked.

'It's a good point,' Doug agreed. 'And what if Xavier, you know, gets into our heads and finds out about our plan.'

'We won't be gone that long,' Illyana told her, 'and it's not as if they keep us under constant surveillance. They'll never even know we've been gone. As for Xavier, do you really think he scans the brains of every student twenty-four/seven? We don't give him a reason to suspect, he's not going to go looking.'

'I don't know…' Dani said.

'Oh come on, chief,' Sam pleaded. 'Please. For me. For Lila.'

'It's not as if we're going to be in any danger,' Illyana added. 'I mean, we can all handle ourselves in a fight. Well, except for Doug over there.'

'I get by just fine,' Doug protested.

'Yeah, and when was the last time they let you into the Danger Room?' Illyana asked.

'Yeah, well I'll show you,' Doug retorted. 'Count me in.'

'What about you, Rahne?' Dani asked. 'You don't have to go if you don't want to. No one's going to force you into anything.'

Illyana opened her mouth to say something, but slammed it shut when Dani turned her gaze on her.

'I'll go,' Rahne said quietly. 'We're a team and that means we stick together, right?'

'Good girl,' Doug enthused.

'Rahne's got a point,' Dani said. 'If we're going to do this we do it as a group and we watch each other's backs. And if I don't like anything - anything at all - we come straight back here. Got it?'

The other four nodded.

'Okay,' Dani said with a smile, 'so when do we start?'


	5. Episode Four

Episode Four

Stevie Hunter's dance studio was within walking distance of the school. Kitty, however, found herself wishing that they had taken the bus. In spite of the brisk pace set by the Doctor, the bitter cold gnawed at her bones, seeping through her coat and scarf and mittens, not to mention then many layers beneath, as if they were not there. The Doctor, in contrast, seemed not to notice the weather and had certainly made no concession to the elements in his manner of dress.

'Aren't you cold?' Kitty asked him as she rubbed her hands together.

'Cold?' the Doctor repeated. 'Sometimes I wonder.'

His voice was soft, but weighed down with sadness.

'Do you want to talk about it?' Kitty asked. She wanted to try and keep the conversation going. She liked the sound of his voice and she wanted to learn more about the handsome stranger fate had dropped into her life. For purely scientific reasons, of course.

The Doctor shrugged. 

'I think I may be treating a good friend very badly,' he confessed, 'assuming she is my friend.'

'I don't understand,' Kitty admitted.

'No reason why you should,' the Doctor replied, 'but let's not talk about my problems.'

The Doctor beamed at her, his smile banishing his previous sadness as the morning sun might burn away the fog. The smile made Kitty blush. She wanted to turn away, but she forced herself to look up at those blue-grey eyes.

'Thanks, by the way,' she stammered.

'What for?' the Doctor asked innocently.

'Well, for talking the professor into letting me out,' Kitty replied.

The Doctor laughed.

'I should be thanking you,' he told her. 'I needed an excuse to get away from that place.'

Kitty frowned. 

'What's wrong with the school?' she asked. 'I mean, besides being a school, obviously'

'I'm sorry, Kitty,' the Doctor said hurriedly. 'I can call you Kitty, can't I? Good. It was a stupid thing to say. Forget I mentioned it.'

And despite Kitty's persistence, the Doctor refused to say any more on the matter.

'So,' Kitty said at last. 'What's it like travelling in time?'

'Much like any other form of travel, I assume,' the Doctor told her. 'Every journey seems to take twice as long as it should, the person a the back constantly wants to know if you're nearly there yet and there's always that little nagging doubt about whether or not you really did remember to turn the gas off.'

His eyes sparkled as he spoke. Kitty had always thought that was just a conceit invented by writers of fiction, but the Doctor really could make his eyes glow like stars.

'But,' Kitty began, 'but travelling in time is like totally, well, wow.'

'Wow?' the Doctor repeated, gently mocking.

'You know,' Kitty insisted. 'What I mean is, you must have all these great adventures.'

'Well, the Doctor mused, 'there was this one night at a restaurant in Venice. Best meal I've had in all my lives and the atmosphereheavenly. And the beauty of time travel is that I can go back and repeat that exact same night just as often as I like.'

'You can do that?' Kitty asked.

'Well, no, not really,' the Doctor confessed. 'So please don't tell anybody or I might get into trouble.'

* * *

_There is a small bench just inside a large bay window in one of the rooms of the mansion. It provides me with the perfect place to add to my journal, gifting me with ample natural light, while sparing me from the bitter cold. It is also peaceful. There are only two people in the room at present, myself and a man playing a game called pool. The man is short, about half a head shorter than myself, and his hair is even more wild than that of my travelling companion._

_'What's the matter, sweetheart?' he growls at me when he notices that I am watching him. 'Am I breathing too loud for you?'_

_'I am not your sweetheart,' I inform him,' and I was just appreciating the quiet.'_

_'Yeah,' the man drawls, straightening up and resting the stick he has been using on the table, 'you don't get a lot of that around here. Best appreciate it while it lasts.'_

_'I'm Mina Harker,' I say, getting up from my seat._

_'I know,' he replies. 'The kids aren't talking about much else at the moment. I'm Logan.'_

_He had a firm handshake and rough, callused hands._

_'What are you writing?' he asked, cocking his head in the direction of my open journal._

_'A diary,' I explained. 'I like to keep a record of things so that I always have the opportunity to remind myself should my memory fade.'_

_Logan turned away from me, picked up a ball from the surface of the table and began tossing it from one hand to the other._

_'Memory's a tricky thing, ain't it,' he muttered._

_The comment seemed to be meant more for himself than for me and it was apparent that Logan felt that the conversation was over. I, however, was not about to waste any opportunity to learn more about these colourful individuals._

_'You rescued us, didn't you,' I began, 'from that mechanical creature. I haven't had the chance to thank you'_

_'Illyana did the rescuing,' Logan grunted. 'I just came along for the ride.'_

_'But still'_

_'But nothing,' Logan cut me off. 'I'm not claiming someone else's credit.'_

_I decided to try another tack._

_'In all the confusion my eyes may have been playing tricks on me,' I confessed, 'but would I be right in thinking that you have claws?'_

_'That you would, darlin',' he replied Three blades popped out from between the knuckles of his left hand then, just as swiftly, they retracted beneath his skin._

_'I don't know what to say,' I said._

_'Best not to say anything,' Logan replied. ''Specially since we both seem to like the quiet.'_

_I did not catch the note of warning in his voice._

_'Pardon me for saying so,' I persisted, 'but those do not appear to be natural. Where they metal?'_

_'Yep,' Logan said._

_'But why would you do that to yourself?' I inquired. 'Why mutilate yourself?'_

_'None of your damn business,' Logan snarled._

_'There's no call for rudeness, Mr Logan,' I snapped back. 'I merely asked you a question. If you choose not to answer, that is your own concern, but you can at least be polite about it.'_

_I have taught enough unruly pupils in my time to know the benefits of a sharp tongue-lashing._

_'I didn't,' Logan said. 'I didn't do this to myself. Now will you just shut up. Please.'_

_Unfortunately, Logan was not one of my students._

_'Someone did this to you?' I whispered. 'But that's horrible? Was therewas there much pain?'_

_'Can't you take a hint,' Logan roared. 'Just drop the subject, okay?'_

_'I'm just trying to understand,' I protested._

_'I said drop it!'_

_Logan turned and hurled the ball he had been holding straight at me. It whipped past my ear and imbedded itself in the plaster of the wall behind me._

_'Logan, that's enough!'_

_A man was standing in the doorway. His tongue was even sharper than mine._

_Logan stalked over to him. Despite being over a head shorter than the new arrival, he did not appear at all comical standing up to him. He looked terrifying._

_'You want to start something, Scotty-boy?' Logan grunted. He was flexing his hands, but kept his claws concealed. For now._

_Scott's hand moved towards the glasses that hid his eyes._

_'I don't know, Logan,' he replied levelly. 'Are you prepared to finish it this time?'_

_'Last time I checked, you weren't in charge here any more,' Logan said before pushing past Scott and leaving the room._

_'Are you all right?' Scott asked me._

_I was trembling._

_'I think I just need to sit down for a moment,' I confessed, backing up until I had reached the window seat._

_'Take all the time you need,' Scott told me. Scott was tall. Not simply tall when compared to Logan, but taller than most people I had ever met. His short, light brown hair was parted on the left and his eyes were hidden behind dark red glasses. They made him difficult to read effectively._

_'Can I get you anything?' Scott continued. 'Water? Something stronger?'_

_'A glass of water would be much appreciated,' I told him._

_Scott crossed to a white and blue cabinet in one corner of the room and placed a cup inside of it. When he returned the white cup, which seemed worryingly flimsy in my hand, was full of cool water. I took a sip._

_'Better?' Scott asked. He had crouched down in front of me so that I did not have to strain my neck looking up at him. There would have been just about enough space for him to have sat down beside me on the bench, but Scott kept his distance and I was glad of it._

_'Better,' I confirmed. _

_Scott smiled at me, cheered by my reassurance. I could not help but smile back._

_'I'm Scott Summers,' he said._

_'Mina Harker,' I replied._

_'I know,' he told me. 'Walls have ears.'_

_'I am inclined to believe anything of this place,' I responded. _

_I took another sip of the water. My nerves were less frayed now, but the sight of the ball embedded in plaster was an uncomfortable reminder of what might have been._

_'Is Mr Logan always so' I paused, searching for a word that would accurately describe my opinions, but would also be suitable in polite company._

_'Short?' Scott suggested._

_I had to laugh. 'That's one way of describing it.'_

_'Logan has a temper,' Scott explained. 'Believe it or not, he's more civilised now then when he first arrived. But I figure we still have a long way to go.'_

_'We?' I queried. 'I thought Logan said'_

_'Slip of the tongue,' Scott admitted. 'The school's been a part of my life for so long now, first as a student and then a teacher, that I have difficulty letting go.'_

_'You were a teacher?' I asked._

_'No need to look so surprised,' Scott protested good-naturedly. 'Most of the adults around here take classes at one time or another.'_

_'Even Logan?'_

_'Well, maybe not him so much,' Scott replied. 'Truth is, though, when you're running a school for mutants you can't afford to be too choosy about who you put on the faculty.'_

_'I used to teach,' I told Scott, 'before I met the Doctor.'_

_'Really, what did you teach?'_

_'English mainly,' I replied, 'but I would teach whatever was necessary under any given circumstance.'_

_'Do you miss it?' Scott asked._

_'A great deal,' I said. 'There is a tremendous sense of satisfaction to be gained by imparting wisdom to the young.'_

_'Tell me about it,' Scott agreed. 'To think that you have somehow helped that kid to achieve somethingYou can't beat that feeling that you're making a difference.'_

_'If you feel that way then why did you leave?' I asked._

_'Personal reasons,' Scott replied._

_'I'm sorry,' I apologised hastily, 'I didn't mean to pry.'_

_'It's okay,' Scott assured me. 'I'm not going to throw a cue ball at you. Someone close to me died while I was here and let's just say that it coloured my perceptions of this place.'_

_'I'm sorry.'_

_'Thanks,' Scott said, 'but I guess it's not all bad. If I hadn't quit I would never have met Maddy.'_

_'Speaking of your gorgeous wife, does she know that you're chatting up other women?' A woman stood in the doorway. Fiery red hair flowed down on either side of her heart-shaped face. She held a baby in her arms._

_'I, er' Scott jumped to his feet as if stung._

_'Relax, Scott, I'm teasing,' Madelyne said as she gave her husband a peck on the cheek. 'Here, hold on to Nathan for me for a minute.'_

_She turned to me, extending a hand. _

_'Hi, I'm Madelyne,' she said, 'but most people call me Maddy.'_

_I got up and took her proffered hand._

_'Mina,' I said, 'but you probably already know that.'_

_'What can I say?' Maddy asked with a shrug. 'News travels fast around here.'_

_'You have a beautiful son,' I said, waving my fingers in front of the boy's face to attract his attention. He, however, seemed to be more interested in chewing on his father's shirt._

_'His name's Nathan Christopher,' Madelyne explained. 'Named after his grandfathers.'_

_'You're a big, handsome boy, aren't you?' I said to Nathan._

_'And heavy to boot,' Scott added. 'The little man isn't so little anymore.'_

_'Oh stop complaining,' Maddy scolded. 'Remember what we said about men with babies.'_

_'I have yet to be convinced,' Scott told her._

_'Do you have any kids of your own?' Madelyne asked me._

_'Just the one,' I replied. 'His name's Qunicey.'_

_'Quincey,' Madelyne repeated, 'I like it.'_

_'He's named after an old family friend,' I explained._

_'And how old is he?' Scott asked._

_I hesitated. I could picture Quincey in my arms, not much older than Scott and Madelyne's son, but that was a memory from years ago. I could see Jonathan in the picture, but he had died and Quinceywhat had become of my son? Why couldn't I remember? Why could I not remember?_

_I stumbled away from Scott and Nathan._

_'Are you all right, Mina?' Scott asked._

_How could I tell him? How could I expect anyone to understand when I did not understand myself?_

_'Fine,' I managed. 'I just need some fresh air.'_

_Then I fled from the room, the incredulous stares of Mr and Mrs Summers boring into my back._

* * *

The chair was large and soft, but Marie could not get comfortable. She kept feeling as though the chair was trying to swallow her up. It was a chair for relaxing in, maybe even sleeping in, but Marie was having a hard time relaxing. She had an urge to bite her fingernails, but she had enough control left to keep her hands firmly in her lap.

'Be calm, Marie,' Ororo said, reaching across and placing a single cold hand over both of Marie's.

'Easy for you to say,' Marie complained in a whisper. 'Which one of us is the wanted criminal again?'

Despite her black leather clothes and white mohican-style hair, Ororo looked completely at home in the inoffensive waiting-room. Marie envied her that.

'I am sure you have nothing to fear,' Ororo said comfortingly.

'We're in the heart of a government building swarming with armed security guys, Ororo,' Marie pointed out.

'Everything will be fine,' Ororo promised. 'We were invited here, remember?'

'Sure,' Marie drawled. 'And how exactly is that supposed to reassure me?'

A door opened, causing Marie to jump. Ororo eased herself languidly upright.

'The Governor will see you,' the man at the door announced.

* * *

'You okay?' Dani asked Sam as she retook her seat beside him.

'Just terrific,' Sam muttered. He was leaning against the window of the train carriage.

'Farm boy still can't decide what to get her, can you, Sam?' Illyana teased, leaning over the back of the seat and ruffling her hair.

'Hey, leave off,' Sam complained.

'Don't your parents work on a farm, Illyana?' Doug inquired innocently.

'My brother and I came to America when I was six,' Illyana pointed out. 'I am a city girl and proud of it.'

'The city is all well and good, I suppose,' Rahne mused softly, 'but how can you not love the country. I miss the Highlands something terrible.'

'Then why don't you go back there then,' Illyana retorted.

'You know why,' Doug cautioned Illyana. 'Rahne didn't chose to leave home like we did, she was driven out.'

'And the reason we haven't gone over there to teach those creeps some manners is?' Illyana asked.

'Because it would be wrong,' Rahne explained.

'Oh yes, I forgot that you forgive them like the good little Christian girl that you are,' Illyana mocked.

'Illyana' Dani warned.

Illyana ignored her. 'Remind me, wasn't it a priest who encouraged people to drive you out in the first place?'

'Illyana, that's enough,' Dani snapped.

'He was misguided,' Rahne replied softly. 'One priest's mistakes don't mean that God himself is flawed.'

'Whatever,' Illyana muttered before folding her arms and slumping in her seat.

'For what it's worth, I'm with Rahne on this country over city thing,' Dani said, changing the subject. 'All I ask is for a wide open plain and a horse to carry me over it.'

'The problem with wide open plains,' Doug said, 'is there's nowhere to plug your PC in. Much as it pains me to agree with 'Yana, I guess I'm not cut out for the country lifestyle.'

'We get internet access on the farm,' Sam put in. 'Okay, with five brothers and sisters I never get to use it, but it's there'

Dani smiled, allowing the tension that Illyana had built up inside of her to melt away.

'So what's got you so worked up anyway, Sam,' she asked.

'Illyana's right, Chief,' he said resignedly. 'I can't think what to get her.'

'You'll think of something,' Dani assured him. 'You just need to look around a bit, that's all.'

'You think?' Sam asked. 'I mean, it's got to be something special, right? Let's face it, Lila's a star who _may_ be interested in me'

'_Is_ into you,' Rahne interjected. 'Anyone could see that.'

Was there a hint of bitterness in her voice, Dani wondered. Not from Rahne, surely?

'Rahne's right,' Dani agreed. 'And when she puts a song on her album called _Sam,_ you've got to take that as a pretty big hint.'

'I've heard that track,' Doug put in. 'Didn't like it.'

'My point is,' Sam began, 'that there's a lot of pressure.'

'No,' Doug said. 'Phys Ed with Logan - that's pressure.'

'Not helping, Doug,' Sam replied.

You could get her the new Lila Cheney album,' Doug persisted. 'That's what I'd get my girlfriend.'

'You haven't got a girlfriend,' Illyana pointed out.

Doug grinned back. 'And here I thought you and I had a connection.'

'In your dreams,' Illyana replied.

'Are there going to be any useful suggestions from the peanut gallery?' Dani asked.

'I doubt it,' Doug admitted. 'Best think fast, Sam, we're almost there.'

* * *

Kim Grayson sat behind her desk. The only item on it was a desk tidy holding two pens. Anything potentially incriminating must have already been locked away, Marie guessed. A man sat off to one side, studying them with little grey eyes. Marie recognised him from numerous public appearances Grayson had done. He was always hovering at her shoulder, but Marie had never heard him speak and had not even known his name until Grayson had introduced him as David Adams.

Marie wanted to be anywhere, but here and had to fight not to flinch every time Grayson glanced in her direction. The whole atmosphere made her distinctly uncomfortable. Ororo, sitting next to her, seemed perfectly at ease, but the way the rain was hammering at the window made Marie wonder.

Grayson had offered them drinks. Ororo had declined so Marie had felt obliged to do likewise despite the fact that her mouth was as dry as the Sahara. She hoped no one was expecting her to contribute to this discussion.

Ororo and Grayson stared at each other, waiting patiently for the other to make the first move. Marie tried not to fidget and wished that someone would just do _something_.

Adams broke the deadlock.

'Governor,' he said, 'I had to interrupt, but I should remind you that you have other appointments.'

'Of course, David,' Grayson said. 

Both she and Ororo allowed themselves a small smile. It had been a skilful move on Adams part, getting things moving again without anyone having to lose face.

'You're probably wondering why I had you brought here,' Grayson said.

'I'm assuming it has something to do with your campaign,' Ororo replied, 'and the fact that you are trailing substantially in the polls.'

Go, Ororo, Marie thought. The governor's superior attitude rubbed her the wrong way.

'Miss Munroe,' Grayson said, a slight frown marring her features, 'it is your best interests that I win this campaign as much as it is in mine, or do you really want Ashley Campbell in office?'

'Honestly, Governor, I wouldn't trust either of you,' Ororo told her, 'but at least you don't plan on putting mutants in camps. Yet.'

'Charles seems happy enough to support me,' Grayson pointed out.

'Professor Xavier is more comfortable playing politics than I am,' Ororo responded.

'I appreciate your candour,' Grayson said. 'Allow me to be equally frank. Campbell is going to win this election.'

'You can't be conceding already?' The words were out of Marie's mouth before she could stop them.

'I have no intention of conceding,' Grayson snapped. 'However, the fact remains that unless we do something drastic and soon Campbell will win. He has tapped into a very real fear in people and is exploiting it brilliantly. The Sentinel was a masterstroke.'

'It's an abomination,' Ororo countered.

'Perhaps,' Grayson conceded, 'but as a propaganda weapon it's tough to beat.'

'I don't get it,' Marie admitted. 'Can't people see it's wrong? Campbell's advocating killing people and you're telling me that makes him popular?'

'People are afraid,' Grayson explained. 'It's easier to hate what's different than to welcome it with open arms. Safer, too.'

'But it can't be legal, surely?' Ororo remarked. 'If Campbell is really advocating death camps and killing machines, can't we use that to get him disqualified from the race? Locked up even?'

'It's not that simple, I'm afraid,' Grayson told her. 'Campbell is claiming that mutants are a whole new species. If that's true then they would not be automatically entitled to any 'human' rights.'

'And they call us monsters,' Ororo breathed. 'I take it you have a solution. That is why we're here, isn't it?'

'I have an idea,' Grayson admitted. 'We need to capture the public's imagination. Rally them around us. We need to make mutants fashionable.'

'And how do you propose to do that?' Ororo asked.

'We both know mutants are more prevalent than most people think, they just don't advertise the fact that they are mutants,' Grayson said. 'I'm guessing that there are plenty of mutants we already consider popular and fashionable, we just don't know their true nature. A lot of things make more sense when you look at them that way.'

'Assuming you're correct,' Ororo replied slowly, 'then those mutants choose to keep their origins secret for good reason.'

'But you know who they are, don't you,' Grayson persisted, 'you and Charles. You could talk to them. Win them round to our point of view.'

'And if they still want to preserve their secret? It's going to be hard convincing them that the world will accept a public mutant with open arms, even a celebrity one. I'm not even convinced of it myself.'

'Then give me the names,' Grayson shot back. 'They can help us whether they like it or not.'

'You would expose them?' Ororo demanded.

'Yes, I would,' Grayson said. 'We need something big to recover all the ground we lost. What is the future of one mutant, of a dozen mutants if it secures the future for all of your kind?'

'I won't hang these people out to be slaughtered,' Ororo insisted. 

'And how much is your moral high ground worth?' Grayson asked. 'How much mutant blood will you have on your hands?'

'You don't care about mutants,' Marie snapped, leaping to her friend's defence. 'You just care about winning your stupid election.'

'Maybe so,' Grayson agreed, 'but what do you care about? If you're not prepared to throw others to the lions in order to win then how about yourself?'

'II don't know what you're talking about,' Marie stammered.

'Oh, I think you do,' Grayson said, twisting the knife. 'I know exactly what you are. You're a terrorist.'

'I was a freedom fighter,' Marie insisted. 

'Of course you were,' Grayson mocked, 'and I'm sure that Air Force captain understands. You know, the one you put into a coma. What was her name? Something Danvers'

'Marie,' Ororo warned.

Marie ignored her.

'I was fighting for mutant rights,' she protested.

'And that's exactly what I'm asking you to do now,' Grayson informed her. 'Take a stand for what you believe in. Give yourself up to human justice. Show the public they have nothing to fear from mutants and that they don't need Sentinel's to defend them from the likes of you.'

'I' Marie began.

'That's enough!' Ororo snapped, jumping to her feet. 'We're leaving. Come on, Marie.'

'Think about what I said,' Grayson shouted after them. 'You know it's the only way.'

* * *

'Head up, Kitty,' Stevie Hunter scolded her pupil as the girl spun and dipped around the studio in time to the music. 'People want to see that face of yours.'

Kitty executed a final pirouette and then came to rest just as the music ended.

'Not bad,' Stevie told her, 'but still not great either. You've got the moves and the rhythm down, but you're still lacking that poise. Remember, it's not just what you do, it's how you do it that's important. Look your audience in the eye and take charge. You've got a lot of work to do in that area if you're serious about entering that competition.'

'You mean it?' Kitty asked, surprise and delighted showing on her face in equal measure. 'You think I've got a chance?'

'Sure you've got a chance, Kitty,' Stevie assured her, 'but only if you practice, practice and then practice some more. Now let's run that routine again from the top and I want to see you selling yourself.'

Having restarted the music, Stevie crossed the floor to go and stand beside the Doctor who was sitting on a wooden chair, watching the proceedings intently.

'So, what do you think?' she asked him, keeping her voice low so as not to distract Kitty.

'She's very good,' the Doctor said. 'I've rarely seen better. A performance of_ Sleeping Beauty_ at the Met springs immediately to mind. You were in that one, I believe.'

'You've seen me perform?' Stevie replied.

'Seen and been impressed by,' the Doctor confirmed. 'I'm something of a fan.'

'I'm flattered.'

'I'm curious,' the Doctor said. 'Why did you give it up? You had such a bright future ahead of you.'

'I was in a car accident, Doctor,' Stevie explained. 'I damaged by knee and now my leg isn't strong enough for that kind of work.'

'So now you teach those who might go on to succeed where you were denied,' the Doctor mused. 'It's amazing how tiny events can change the whole course of people's lives.'

They watched Kitty in silence for a while, then the Doctor suddenly exclaimed, 'I'd be honoured if you would dance with me.'

'I'd love to, Doctor, really,' Stevie said, 'but my knee'

'I'll support you, I promise,' the Doctor said. 'Please. It would mean a lot to me.'

Kitty's dance was just coming to a close.

'Well, if you're sure,' Stevie began sceptically.

'Splendid.' 

The Doctor beamed while Stevie sorted out some music. Then he took her in his arms and whisked her out on to the studio floor.

Watching them, Kitty was reminded of something she had once had to do in drama class. You stood with your back to your partner and then let yourself fall backwards, trusting in the other person to catch you before you hit the floor. Despite having only just met him, Stevie was prepared to trust the Doctor not to drop her. The more she thought about it, the more certain Kitty felt that she was too.

* * *

Rachel found Mina sitting outside in the rose garden.

'I thought it was too cold out here,' she commented, sitting down beside her.

'I needed the fresh air,' Mina replied.

'I know what happened with you and Logan,' Rachel said.

'So I suppose everyone is talking about that as well now,' Mina replied hotly.

'No,' Rachel amended hastily, 'no one's said a word. It's justwell, I read minds. I wasn't doing it deliberately, but it's not a power I can switch off and sometimes I guess I justpick stuff up.'

'Then you know that that man tried to kill me,' Mina said.

'No, he didn't,' Rachel said. 'I've seen what Logan can do. If he had wanted to kill you then he wouldn't have missed.'

'That's hardly comforting,' Mina remarked.

'Look, you seem like an okay sort of person,' Rachel began, 'and I just want you to hear Logan's side of the story before you judge him.'

'I think I know quite enough about Mr Logan already, thank you very much,' Mina retorted.

'Please,' Rachel begged. 'If you still want to hate him when I'm done then fine, but at least hear me out.'

'I don't understand,' Mina said. 'I thought that you were new here. How is it that Logan is so important to you.'

'In the future I come from Loganhe died to save my life,' Rachel said.

'That doesn't sound much like the man I encountered earlier,' Mina pointed out.

'Logan hasissues,' Rachel began. 'It's difficult to explain, but the gist of it is that an organisation captured him and experimented on him, giving him a metal skeleton and those claws. They also wiped his memory and then started implanting suggestions into his brain to turn him into their perfect soldier. Logan managed to break free of their conditioning in the end, but he never recovered what he'd lost. He doesn't really know who he is or where he comes from. What memories he does have might just have been implanted there by his captors and when he makes a decision, is it really him that's doing it, or the thing they turned him into? Can you imagine trying to live your life like that?'

'Yes,' Mina whispered. 'Yes, I think I can. But even so'

'Hey, I'm not defending what he did,' Rachel said, 'and I doubt he would either. I'm just asking you not to judge him on one bad day. He's a better man than you give him credit for. I know.'

'Has it occurred to you that the Logan you know may be from a future that may not happen?' Mina suggested quietly.

Rachel turned away so that Mina would not see the hot tears that had just sprung up behind her eyes.

'Given what my time was like,' she said, voice shaking, 'I pray that you're right.' She wiped the back of her hand across her face. 'I'd better get back inside.'

'Wait,' Mina said, grabbing hold of Rachel's wrist to prevent her from leaving. 'Please.'

Rachel paused and turned back.

'You said you could read minds,' Mina recalled, an edge of fear in her voice. 'Could youcould you read mine?'

* * *

Charles Xavier sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. This was supposed to be relaxing. What with everything else that was going on, Xavier had decided to take a break and work on planning courses for the new semester. The idea was that he could lose himself in his schoolwork for a few hours free from the demands of politics. He had not asked to play politician. All he wanted was to be a schoolteacher, but somebody had to make a stand on behalf of mutants and if not him then who?

That did not mean that his work as a headmaster was easy, however. Given the small teaching staff, it was a nightmare trying to arrange a workable timetable. He really needed to hire more teachers, but how was he supposed to vet potential candidates? The last thing he needed was a new member of staff blowing the whistle on the true nature of his school.

Maybe he should have a word with Scott while he was here. Even if he only agreed to come back to teach part time, it would make things a lot easier. Then again, maybe having Scott around was not such a good idea. He had been Xavier's first student, the best and the brightest to ever graduate from here. But a little learning was a dangerous thing and, after Jean's death, Scott had started to ask questions Xavier was not prepared to answer. Maybe it would be better after all if Scott were to keep his visits to a minimum.

Xavier was interrupted from his reverie by the muffled sound of an explosion and the smell of sulphur that filled the study. He glowered at Kurt who had just appeared in the room.

'I thought we agreed no teleporting in the mansion,' he said.

'I'm sorry, Professor,' Kurt said, 'but you must see this.'

With his prehensile tail, Kurt snatched up the remote control from the desk and turned on the television.

* * *

'Illyana, help me get these civilians out of here,' Dani shouted over the noise of gunfire. 

She was standing on the main concourse of Grand Central Station surrounded by dozens of panicked people who had come to New York expecting to get caught up only in the crush of last minute Christmas shoppers, not a race related shootout. There were eight gunmen - no, ten - proudly displaying the colours of Purity, an anti-mutant hate group. Somehow, they had recognised Dani and her fellow students for what they were as soon as they had got off the elevator. And then the shooting had started.

'Sam, Rahne, keep them occupied until we've got these people to safety,' Dani continued. 'Doug, find cover.'

Doug gave her a quick salute, then ran. His mutant ability to translate languages was not going to help him in a firefight. Then again, this was not exactly normal circumstances for Dani, either.

She turned to the crowd. At least they were running, she supposed, but they were running in all directions rather than making for the exits. It was time to give them a little incentive.

She concentrated, reaching out with her mind and focussing on their fears, giving them form. Monsters began to appear on the concourse, twisted freaks with teeth and claws and many, many legs. Were they meant to be demons, Dani wondered, or these people's perception of mutants? The monsters were just illusions, but the crowd did not know that and Dani used the images to heard them towards the nearest exit.

On the other side of the concourse, Illyana was summoning up glowing portals of light and using them to transport people outside to safety. On her third trip, one of the gunmen had time to snap off a shot and it grazed Illyana's arm. Howling in rage and pain, she teleported over to the gunman, grabbed him by his shirt and then they were both swallowed by a golden disc that rose up from the ground like a hole in space. When Illyana returned, she was alone.

'Where did you send him?' Doug asked, peering out from behind the relative safety of a pillar.

'Does it matter?' Illyana replied.

'Get down!' Sam shouted.

Illyana and Doug dived out of the way as Sam streaked past like a human cannonball, a plume of smoke trailing in his wake. He slammed into the sniper who had been bracing himself to pick off Sam's comrades and carried him up and out throw the arched windows, glass shattering around them.

* * *

'Don't you feel a little guilty,' Gareth Finch asked, 'impersonating Purity like this.'

He was sitting in the back of a white van parked across the street from Grand Central Station. The van was filled with audio-visual equipment and the many small screens were displaying different views of the action within the station.

'Not a bit,' Lindsey Kelly replied. 'Way I see it, Purity should be glad of the publicity. This is the sort of thing they should have done long ago.'

On the screens they could see the small red-haired girl spring at a pair of gunmen. In mid leap, dark hair began to sprout from her skin. Her teeth and nails lengthened and her face contorted into a snarling muzzle as her ears tapered to points. By the time her claws slashed open the uniforms of her assailants, her transformation into a werewolf was complete.

'I'm not arguing,' Finch said. 'I just feel that we should be taking the credit for this, not letter Purity steal the limelight.' He picked up a cardboard box. 'Doughnut?'

'Thanks,' Kelly said as she scooped a jelly doughnut out of the box. 'I know what you mean, but Vaughan wants us to remain anonymous. At least for now.'

'Well, I suppose he is the boss.' Finch gestured towards the equipment. 'You reckon we've got enough footage?'

'Let's hope so,' Kelly replied. 'We're fast running out of 'Purity members'.'

'Fine,' Finch said. 'Let's send in the Sentinel and then get the hell out of here.'

* * *

Xavier and Kurt watched in horror as the TV screen showed a Sentinel marching into the station. It took out Sam and Illyana first, the mobile ones, the ones with most chance of getting away.

Dani's illusions were of no use against the robot and before she could even turn to run, she had been engulfed by a weighted net that had shot out of the Sentinel's stubby right arm. Rahne threw herself at the mechanical monstrosity, raking at the metal shell with her claws, searching for an opening, any opening. A blade popped out of the Sentinel's left wrist and it jabbed it into Rahne's shoulder. She screamed.

Doug shouted something - the sound on the television was not clear enough to hear what - and ran at the Sentinel. The robot stuck out its free arm and caught the boy on the side of the head. He fell to the ground and lay unmoving.

The Sentinel lowered its left arm and Rahne slid slowly off of its blade and on to the floor.

Then the picture cut out, replaced by static.

'They were set up,' Xavier mused, taking the remote from cut and switching off the television. 'That television crew got there too fast for anything else.'

'I'll go get the others,' Kurt said. 'We need to plan their rescue.'

'No,' Xavier insisted. 'There's not going to be any rescue attempt.'

'But'

'I'm sorry, Kurt,' Xavier said. 'I wish there was another way, but we are not going after the students.'


	6. Episode Five

Episode Five

_Rachel had agreed to help me, for which I was more grateful than I could say. However, amid the feelings of gratitude were the cold voids of fear that threatened to swallow me up. If we did manage to uncover the memories that had been stolen from me, who knew what Pandora's Box we might unwittingly open up? Perhaps fortunately, I was spared from having to confront this very real concern when Rachel and I were summoned to the main hall._

_Gone were the tables I remembered from when this had been the dining area. Now the hall was filled with rows of plastic chairs. The school was large enough to accommodate several hundred students and the size of the hall reflected this. Given the number of students who had gone home to celebrate Christmas with their families, it was like using a bucket to hold a few grains of sand. It could have felt even worse, however. If all of the students had gone home then the hall would have been practically deserted, but many of the students had no homes to go to, their families wanting nothing to do with a child they considered a crime against nature._

_On reflection, I believe that it could not have felt much worse._

_I spotted the Doctor sitting near the front and guided Rachel over to him. He was sitting with Kitty, who had saved seats for us._

_'Do you know what this is about, Doctor?' I asked._

_He shook his head._

_'We only just got back from Stevie's,' Kitty explained._

_'It's not going to be anything good,' Rachel remarked._

_'Come now, you don't know that,' the Doctor replied jovially. 'The professor probably just wants some help with the Christmas panto.'_

_I regret to say that he was not fooling anyone._

_A hush fell over the hall as the professor rolled himself out onto the stage. He was followed by Kurt Wagner. His demonic appearance did not disturb me as much as it had on our first meeting, but I still found it difficult not to stare._

_The professor adjusted the microphone._

_'Good evening,' he began. His words echoed around the hall. 'Most of you are probably wondering why I have summoned you here. As some of you may be aware, there was an altercation at Grand Central Station earlier today, an altercation involving a number of our students.'_

_'An altercation?' someone shouted from the back of the hall. 'They were attacked by one of those Sentinels. I saw it on CNN.'_

_Voices began to rise like distant thunder as people digested this revelation and discussed it with their colleagues. I would have said something to the Doctor, but he put a finger to his lips, instructing me to keep my peace._

_'Those students defied a curfew I imposed for the safety of you all,' the professor continued as if the heckler had not spoken. 'These are dangerous times and I cannot stress upon you strongly enough the importance of not becoming a target.'_

_'But what are you going to do about Sam and the others?' the heckler demanded._

_'Sam?' Kitty repeated softly, her face paling._

_'As I am sure you are aware, this is a very delicate time for mutants,' the professor replied. 'Our every action is scrutinised by the media, dissected and then spun in the worst possible light. We cannot afford to do anything that would exacerbate the current climate of hate any further. As such, I will not condone any rescue attempt at this time.'_

* * *

The Doctor got to his feet. Xavier had expected something like this from the stranger.

'So what you're saying is that you are just going to leave them to die,' the Doctor said.

'There is no proof that they will come to any harm while captive,' Xavier countered.

'No proof?' the Doctor spluttered. 'I've been reading up since I got here. It's not often I get the chance to do some research into the location I've ended up in, but I put in the extra effort this time round. Have you seen the material spewed out by these anti-mutant groups? Do you really believe that they are going to leave those children unharmed?'

'We don't even know who has them,' Xavier retorted. 'It could be any number of organisations.'

'All the more reason to find out,' the Doctor shot back. 'I can't believe that you are willing to just sacrifice the lives of these children.'

'Do you think I want to do this, Doctor?' Xavier demanded. 'I have to consider the needs of mutants as a species. How can I balance the scaled so that the needs of these five are greater than those of the thousands of mutants in this country? Do you really think I have a choice?'

'There's always a choice, professor,' the Doctor said, 'if you are brave enough to take it.'

'The professor is doing the right thing,' Kurt insisted, stepping forward to stand beside his mentor, 'and I for one agree with him.'

'Well, bully for you,' the Doctor sneered. 'I hope you can find a way to sleep at night.'

'You heard Rachel's story,' the professor snapped. 'You were there when she told us about the camps. If I can prevent that happening then I will be able to sleep very soundly indeed.'

'The professor's right,' Rachel said, standing up.

'Rachel?' Kitty despaired.

'I don't like this any more than the rest of you,' Rachel continued, 'but to avoid my future I'll pay any price.'

She climbed up onto the stage and stood beside Kurt.

'Yes, but we're not asking you to pay it, though, are we?' the Doctor pointed out. 'Did anyone ask the students if they were willing to give their lives in the oh so great cause of Xavier or was that covered in the entrance exam?'

'This is not a joking matter,' Ororo said as she strode out onto the stage to stand on Xavier's right.

'No, it's a matter of life and death,' the Doctor responded, 'and I will not condone the deaths of five innocent teenagers under any circumstances.'

'It breaks my heart to say that I am,' Ororo said softly. 'I stand with the professor.'

'Thank you, my X-Men,' Xavier said.

'X-Men?' the Doctor laughed. 'Is this your private army to keep the rest of us in line.'

'They are friends and colleagues brave enough to stand with me,' Xavier replied.

'Not all of them,' Scott called. He was leaning against a wall, arms folded.

'Marie?' Xavier called, singling her out of the crowd. 'Where do you stand?'

'Well, you've always done okay by me, professor,' Marie began hesitantly, 'so I guess that means I stand with you.'

'There's a ringing endorsement,' the Doctor muttered.

'Kitty?' Xavier asked.

Kitty was crying.

'I hear what you're saying, professor, I really do,' she said, 'and up in my head, it makes sense. But these are my friends, professor. You can't ask me to just abandon them.'

'Not even if it means saving everyone else?' the professor asked.

'I can't make that kind of decision,' Kitty protested. 'I'm sorry, but I'm just not strong enough.'

She ran from the room, blinded by her tears.

'Kitty!' Ororo called. 

She started after her, but Xavier raised a hand to stay her.

'Leave her,' he said. 'She'll come around.'

'Really?' the Doctor said, eyes narrowing. 'How can you be so sure?'

Xavier ignored him, singling out another of his core group.

'Logan?'

Logan was sitting on one chair with his feet propped up on the chair in front. The students had given him plenty of space to himself.

'You're right about one thing, Charles,' he growled. 'Whatever I did about those kids, it wouldn't be discreet.'

He popped the claws on his right hand for emphasis.

'That's not an answer,' the Doctor insisted, but Xavier had already moved on.

'And Peter,' he asked, picking a big man out of the crowd, 'what do you say?'

'Illyana is my sister,' Peter began.

'And you have my sympathies,' Xavier assured him.

'Sympathies,' the Doctor taunted angrily. 'This man doesn't want sympathy. He wants his sister back.'

'The Doctor speaks the truth,' Peter agreed. 'I would do anything to get my sister, my little snowflake, back.'

'Anything?' Xavier repeated. 'Would you sacrifice everyone in this room for her?'

'You can't expect him to make that kind of decision,' the Doctor protested.

'Why not?' Xavier demanded. 'That's the choice. Someone has to decide. Do we attempt to rescue those five students and in so doing cause irrevocable damage to the future of the mutant population in America, maybe even the world. Or do we leave them, hard as that may be, knowing that by doing so we are giving mutantkind a chance.'

'It's not that simple,' the Doctor insisted.

'Yes, it is!' Xavier was shouting now. 'You think I don't wish that I could pull a rabbit out of a hat and save everybody? I can't. We live in an imperfect world, Doctor, and I have to make do as best I can.'

'Then why not try and make the world perfect,' the Doctor said softly.

'Peter,' Xavier continued, 'do you really think Illyana would want you to rescue her if she knew the price?'

Peter hung his head.

'No, professor,' he conceded, 'I do not.'

'Did you all hear that?' Xavier declaimed to the hall. 'I understand how you feel. Sam, Danielle, Rahne, Illyana and Douglas, they were not just our colleagues, they were our friends. But to Peter they meant even more than that. Illyana was family. And yet Peter does not let loyalty and sentiment blind him to the truth. The truth is that we will do more harm than good trying to help them now and I ask you all to be strong, to be brave enough to support us in our decision.'

The Doctor collapsed into his seat like a broken doll. 

'How dare he?' he muttered. 'How dare he manipulate that boy for his own ends?'

'I reiterate how important it is that no student leaves the school grounds,' Xavier continued. 'I understand how difficult the situation is at the moment. It is a testing time for all of us, but I have no doubt that you will all rise to the challenge admirably and make me proud. And, should any of you wish to talk further, please remember that my door is always open.'

He rolled his chair round and left the stage, followed by Ororo, Kurt and Rachel. The hall filled with the sound chair legs scraping on the floor as the students rose to leave.

'Mina,' the Doctor began as she stood up. 'Could you stay a while? I know I've not been the best of travelling companions lately andwell, that iscould we just sit and talk for a bit.'

Mina was not looking at him, though. She was peering at his shoulder at Logan who was making hi sway out of the hall.

'I'm sorry, Doctor,' she said, stepping past him, 'but there is someone else whom I really need to speak to. There will be time for us to talk later.'

'Will there?' the Doctor asked as she hurried away.

* * *

Ororo walked the professor back to his study.

'I spoke to Grayson this afternoon,' she began.

'Did you now,' the professor commented. 'And what did she have to say for herself?'

'She wanted to discuss how we were going to win back popular opinion,' Ororo continued.

'I hope she had a suitably brilliant idea,' Xavier said, 'because without a stroke of genius I can't see how she - and by connection we - are going to win this.'

'She suggested that we out mutant celebrities,' Ororo explained, 'and using their already existing popularity to win support.'

'Popularity that will evaporate the moment it's revealed that they are mutants,' Xavier pointed out bitterly.

'It might not,' Ororo offered without much conviction. 'Perhaps we don't give humanity enough credit.'

'This is the same humanity that produces people like Grayson, ready to exploit a minority just to get ahead in the opinion polls,' Xavier replied. 'This is the same humanity that throws petrol bombs at a van full of people whose only crime was to be born different. Sometimes, Ororo, I fear we give humanity too much credit.'

'I told Grayson that we would not sell other mutants down the river,' Ororo explained, 'but'

'But?'

'I was thinking about what you said in the hall,' Ororo said. 'About putting the needs of mutantkind above the needs of individual mutants. If it would make a difference, would it be right to expose just a few mutants?'

Xavier was silent for several moments.

'It's something of a moral minefield we find ourselves in,' he said at length, 'but I will not cause harm to my fellow mutants.'

'But you will allow them to come to harm by your inaction,' Ororo pointed out.

'Any action I could take would be harmful to other mutants,' Xavier explained. 'The line I've drawn in the sand may be a very fine one, but it's all I have.'

* * *

'Mr Logan,' Mina called, hurrying in his direction, 'could I talk to you a moment?'

Logan turned. He was holding an unlit cigar in one hand.

'If you're expecting an apology, you're out of luck,' he told her.

'Rachel told me,' Mina persisted, 'about your past.'

'Kid should learn to keep her trap shut,' Logan returned.

'Maybe she was talking out of turn,' Mina continued, 'but she only did it because she was concerned lest I judged you unfairly. I wanted to tell you that I understand what you are going through.'

Logan cocked his head and studied her.

'You don't believe me, do you,' Mina deduced.

'No, quite the opposite darling,' he replied. 'People communicate in all sorts of ways other than with words. They way the move. Smells they give off.' He sniffed the air for dramatic effect. 'Maybe it's the animal in me, but I can read all those other signals like an open book.'

'Then you know that I'm telling the truth,' Mina said.

'I know that you think that you are,' Logan corrected. 'Get your coat.'

'I'm sorry?'

'If you want to talk to me,' Logan explained, 'then you're going to have to do it outside. Chuck gets pissed if I smoke indoors.'

* * *

The Doctor rapped lightly on the door. The door was already slightly ajar so he could tell that Peter was inside.

'Peter,' he called softly, 'may I come in?'

Peter grunted something in response and the Doctor optimistically decided to take that as assent. The big man was sitting at an easel, a palette on one hand, and a long-handled paintbrush in the other.

'Oils?' the Doctor remarked, deducing as much from the smell. 'More powerful than watercolours, aren't they? Perfect for intense emotion.'

A variety of canvasses lay about the room, propped up against walls, furniture, whatever was handy. They were portraits and the Doctor recognised a few of the faces as people he had met during his stay at the school.

'These are very good,' he mused. 'The thing I find about painting is that, while a photograph can provide a more technically accurate, more realistic image, it can't capture the soul. But these pictureswell, it almost feels like I know these people, and that's not an easy thing to capture in pigment.'

He glanced over at Peter, who was still hunched over his easel, unmoving.

'Please don't tell me my compliments are being wasted,' the Doctor said with a wry smile. 'I'd hate to go to all that effort for nothing.'

He crossed the room so that he could see what Peter was working on.

'Hmm, not bad. Abstract, I take it?'

The canvas was blank.

'It'sit's supposed to be Illyana,' Peter explained quietly. 'I can see her every time I close my eyes, but I just can't see her on the canvas.'

'Illyana is your sister, isn't she?' the Doctor asked. 'She's one of the students who were taken.'

'Yes,' Peter replied. 'I wanted something I could remember her by.'

The Doctor swore under his breath, something coarse and Gallifreyan.

'What is the problem with everyone at this school?' he demanded. 'Your sister isn't dead. We can still get her back.'

'But the professor said' Peter began.

'The professor said this, the professor said that,' the Doctor parroted. 'It's as if Xavier has you all brainwashed. The professor isn't always right, you know. No one is, not even me. What if he's wrong about this, hm? What if there is a way we can rescue your sister?'

'But'

'Think about it,' the Doctor persisted. 'You've got all these people under one roof, all with unique and wonderful abilities. Acting in concert, what couldn't they accomplish?'

There was something in Peter's blue eyes. Was it a spark of hope, the Doctor wondered, was he getting through?

'I'

But Peter did not get the chance to complete the thought.

'Doctor,' Kurt interrupted from the doorway, 'could I have a word, please.'

The Doctor looked from Kurt back to Peter, but the artist had retreated to the sanctuary of his painting. The moment had passed.

'Now, please,' Kurt insisted.

The Doctor stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

'You have quite remarkable timing,' the Doctor commented. 'Did Xavier send you?'

'We'd prefer it if you left Peter alone,' Kurt said. 'He's in a delicate state of mind right now.'

'Really?' the Doctor countered. 'And what do you suppose brought _that_ on?'

Kurt scowled.

'It's not fair to Peter to play on his emotions like that,' he scolded.

'But it's all right for Xavier to take advantage of him in order to make his case in the hall earlier?' the Doctor asked.

The Doctor glared at Kurt, his cool blue eyes boring into the mutant's blazing yellow ones. Kurt looked away.

'The professor has the best of motives,' he insisted.

'That's hardly a ringing endorsement,' the Doctor pointed out.

'I trust his judgement,' Kurt replied. 'The professor is an extremely intelligent man.'

'So was Moriarty,' the Doctor retorted.

'You don't understand,' Kurt said. 'I trust the professor. If it wasn't for him I would be dead now. Do you really think that a man who looks as I do could lead a normal life? The professor gave that back to me after nature took it away. I owe him more than I can say.'

'And you're letting your loyalty blind you,' the Doctor insisted. 'All of you. Xavier may be a great man, but he is still just a man. He is fallible.'

'That's not for me to say,' Kurt replied, 'but you can discuss it with the professor. He wants to talk to you.'

* * *

'There are things about my past I can't remember either,' Mina told Logan.

They were standing just outside the school entrance and Mina was shivering. A scattering of snowflakes had just begun to fall.

'And that makes you think we have something in common,' Logan grunted. 'Lots of people have trouble remembering things. Not many get given these.'

He popped his claws, the blades sliding out from between his knuckles with an audible hiss. Fresh blood stained the silvery metal.

'Does it hurt?' Mina asked.

'Every time,' Logan replied. 'I heal fast, that's my gift, as Charles might say. Some gift. Every time I pull the claws back in the holes heal right back up and I have to cut brand new ones each time I pop them out again. And a healing factor doesn't make it hurt any less.'

'I'm sorry,' Mina said.

'Apologies are just words,' Logan remarked. 'Don't bother wasting either your time or your breath on them.'

'That's a very cynical attitude,' Mina pointed out.

'I am what they made me,' Logan commented.

'I don't believe that,' Mina insisted, 'I won't.'

'Why not?' Logan asked, exhaling cigar smoke.

'Because that would make me a monster,' Mina replied quietly.

'You don't look much like a monster,' Logan told her, 'and I've known a fair few in my time.'

'There was this man,' Mina began. 'Well, not a man, not really. A monster. A vampire.'

'You're yanking my chain,' Logan scoffed. Mina glared at him. 'Or maybe not.'

'Hehe turned me,' Mina continued. 'He was killed and I thought that I was free of him, but perhaps I am not as free as I believed.'

'I thought vampires weren't supposed to come out in daylight,' Logan said.

'So did I,' Mina agreed, 'but there is a lot I'm not certain of any more.'

She wrapped her arms about her, trying to stave of the cold.

'I can't remember much of the past few years,' she said. 'The period between the vampire and my meeting with the Doctor is a blur. My last clear memory of my husband is from ten years ago.'

'Ten years,' Logan whistled. 'You don't look old enough'

'I stopped ageing,' Mina explained, 'or so I'm told. I no longer have a reflection so that I can judge. I have a son. At least I think I do. He's called Quincey. But I can't remember what happened to him. I wouldn't just abandon my own son, would I? Doesn't that make me a monster?'

'All I can remember is a name,' Logan said. 'Rose. I know she was important to me, but I can't remember how or why. Can't even remember her face.'

'I'm sorry,' Mina consoled him.

'Yeah,' Logan said, 'so am I.'

* * *

'Summoned to the principal's office,' the Doctor mused. 'Have I done something wrong?'

'Doctor,' Xavier scolded, 'I hardly think your frivolity is well-timed.'

'Really?' The Doctor affected a mock-scandalised expression. 'And here I thought we were supposed to be having fun, preparing for the Christmas part and generally ignoring the fact that five students entrusted to your care may be in serious danger.'

'That is uncalled for,' Xavier said.

'Is it?' The Doctor slammed his palms down on the desk and leaned across towards Xavier. 'You may see them as acceptable losses, but I see them as no such thing.'

'What would you have me do, Doctor?' Xavier asked calmly. 'Yes, with the amount of power under this roof we could probably find and rescue the students, but at what cost? Most people beyond this school already hate and fear mutants. How do you think they will react to the sight of mutants roaming the streets openly using their abilities?'

'Well hiding isn't helping your cause,' the Doctor replied. 'That just further engenders suspicion and distrust. Look at this place. A school solely for mutants. You are actively encouraging segregation. Mutants and humans should attend the same schools, go to the same movies, eat in the same restaurants, ride on the same busses. That's the way the world _should_ work.'

'Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of fantasies,' Xavier said. 'I have to deal with the way the world is. I have nightmares about the way the world might turn out and Rachel's arrival only confirmed the worst of them. I will not condemn mutants to a life of persecution lived in camps and if I have to sacrifice a few mutants to save the rest then that is a decision I am prepared to make.'

'So you'll make your decisions based on fear of what might happen,' the Doctor said. 'It's such a narrow point of view. Don't think of how things might go wrong, think of what you might achieve, if only you had the courage to dare.'

'As you so rightly pointed out, Doctor,' Xavier replied, 'these students are in my care. I have a responsibility to them that drives me to caution.'

'So this is your grand response to a world that fears and hates you,' the Doctor concluded. 'To fear and hate it back.'

'We do what we have to to survive,' Xavier said.

The Doctor shook his head.

'Life's so much more than mere survival.'

'It's a start.' Xavier leaned forward and steepled his fingers above the desk. 'Doctor, your comments, your speeches are not helping the good order of this school.'

'You're suppressing free speech now as well?' the Doctor mocked.

'Everyone is entitled to their own point of view,' Xavier responded, 'but in my school the principal is the final authority. I have made my decision on this matter and your constant attempts to undermine it bring nothing but chaos and confusion to an already volatile environment.'

'I will do what I believe to be right,' the Doctor said. 'That's all any of us can do.'

'I couldn't agree more,' Xavier replied, 'which is why I am asking you to leave.'

'Asking me?' the Doctor repeated with a crooked smile.

'I see we understand one another.'

'Very well,' the Doctor agreed. 'There's something about this place that sets my teeth on edge in any case. There is one thing, though'

'What's on your mind?'

'My companion,' the Doctor explained. 'My ship won't have finished its self-repair cycle yet and Mina will need a place to stay. Is _she_ still welcome here.'

'She has not caused any trouble as yet,' Xavier said, 'and if she continues in the same vein then I would welcome her presence here.'

'Thank you.'

The Doctor turned to leave.

'Doctor,' Xavier called, bringing him to a halt. 'This isn't personal. I have a great deal of respect for you, but I have to put the interests of my school first.'

The Doctor sighed.

'That's always the way with you, isn't it? The greater good. Tell me, if sacrificing one girl would save the majority, would you do it?'

'Yes,' Xavier insisted. 'Yes, I would?'

'Then perhaps you can explain something to me,' the Doctor asked, looking down at his open palms. 'How would you wash the blood off of your hands?'

* * *

'Scott, what do you think you're doing?' Madelyne asked.

She was holding Nathan in her arms and he was crying. She rocked him gently in an effort to soothe him, wishing all the while that someone would soothe her own distress. Scott continued to stuff clothes into a duffel bag.

'I'm going away for a few days,' he explained, not looking up. 'I hope not to be gone any longer than that.'

'But why are you going at all?' Madelyne demanded.

'Because somebody has to,' Scott replied. 

He had got everything he wanted and now zipped the bag closed.

'And why does that somebody has to be you?'

Scott looked up at her, his emotions concealed behind those damn shades.

'I'm not going to abandon those kids,' he insisted.

Nathan wailed. Madelyne stroked his soft hair, quieting him.

'You promised me that you had quit,' she said, fighting the urge to snap. 'You promised me that this wasn't your life anymore. We were going to start a life away from all this.'

'And I'm supposed to have left my conscience at the school gates on my way out, am I?' Scott retorted. 'I'm just trying to do what's right.'

'And abandoning your wife and child is right, is it?' Madelyne said. She could feel tears stinging in her eyes.

'I'm coming back,' Scott said.

'Are you?' Madelyne asked softly. 'Can you promise me that?'

Scott stood in silence.

'You'll throw your life away on some fools errand,' Madelyne told him. Deep down, I guess I always knew, always knew that you were still Scott Summers, X-Man, no matter what you told me.'

'I love you, Madelyne' Scott said.

'But not enough to stay, obviously,' Madelyne retorted.

'I'

'Just go!' This time, Madelyne did snap, tears rolling freely down her cheeks.

'I'm sorry,' Scott mumbled as he picked up his bag and left the room.

* * *

The Doctor looked up at the night sky, but clouds obscured any chance of seeing stars. Snow had been falling for several hours now and was settling as a kind of off-white sludge.

'Come out where I can see you,' he said suddenly. 'I dislike being spied on.'

Guiltily, Kitty Pryde slunk out of the shadows.

'Is there a particular reason why you're following me, or is this another one of the professor's war games?' the Doctor asked.

'I heard that you were leaving,' Kitty explained.

'Curious,' the Doctor remarked, 'because I don't recall telling anybody.'

'Okay, all right, I confess,' Kitty conceded. 'I was listening outside the door to the professor's office.'

'You were spying on me?' the Doctor asked, his voice tinged with barely suppressed laughter.

'I wanted to talk to you,' Kitty continued, 'in private, but then Kurt came along so I followed you.'

'And now here we are,' the Doctor concluded. 'Well, I'm all ears.'

Kitty chewed fretfully on her lower lip as she considered her next words.

'You're going after them, aren't you?' she said at last. 'Doug, Dani and the others.'

'Perhaps,' the Doctor replied. 

'Take me with you,' Kitty said.

'What?'

'They're my friends and I want to help.'

'It will be dangerous,' the Doctor pointed out.

'That's not stopping you,' Kitty retorted.

'And I thought the professor had told you all to stay inside the school grounds.'

'What he doesn't know won't kill him,' Kitty said. 'I just want to do what I believe to be right. Isn't that what you said.'

The Doctor scowled.

'That kind of manipulation isn't going to win you any friends, you know,' he told her.

'But you'll let me go with you, right?' Kitty said, beaming hopefully up at him. 'Please.'

'Oh come on then,' the Doctor reluctantly agreed. 'I just know I'm going to regret this, but I never could stand travelling alone.'

* * *

Scott stood at the window, watching Kitty and the Doctor talking by the front gate.

'He's going to cause trouble, that one,' Logan said, announcing his presence.

Scott turned slowly to look at him.

'I thought you'd approve.'

'Never said I didn't,' Logan pointed out.

'You think he's doing the right thing?' Scott asked.

Logan shrugged.

'Reminds me of that saying,' he said. 'The road to hell is paved with good intentions.'

'The whole world's going to hell,' Scott murmured.

'Just saw Maddy and the rugrat,' Logan remarked. 'She looked upset. That your fault?'

'I told them I was going away for a few days,' Scott explained. 'I'm going after the kids.'

'And here I thought you were Chuck's golden boy,' Logan said.

'Charles isn't as perfect as he likes people to think,' Scott replied.

'Nobody could be as perfect as he likes people to think he is,' Logan quipped. 'Is that why you quit, because you found out the great professor wasn't all he was cracked up to be.'

'That's part of it,' Scott conceded. 'Logan, I need your help. Charles is right in that if we mess this up then the situation will be much worse than if we hadn't tried at all.'

'Then why _are_ we trying?' Logan asked.

'Because it's the right thing to do,' Scott said simply. 'So, are you in or out.'

'Well, it sure beats being cooped up in here,' Logan said, 'and I'm going to hell anyway so it's not like I've got anything to lose. You've got some kind of plan, I hope.'

'I've got a plan,' Scott told him with a slight smile, 'but you're not going to like it much.'

Logan grunted.

'I've never liked your plans, Summers,' he said, 'but they do tend to work out. So when do we start saving lives?'

'Thanks, Logan,' Scott said with relief. 'Who knows, we might make a superhero out of you yet.'


	7. Episode Six

Episode Six

A white feather fluttered down from the sky. Warm air rising from the city's streets buoyed it up to some degree, but gravity was patient and untiring and, eventually, the feather landed. It came to a stop in the lap of a little girl called Raquel who was sitting on the steps outside her apartment building. She was watching a snowball fight in the street between some of the girls who lived in her neighbourhood. Raquel knew better than to ask if she could join in. She was short and plump (not fat, her mother insisted) and did not wear the right sort of clothes to be admitted to their gang. So Raquel sat on the step and watched them and was surprised when the feather landed in her lap because nothing interesting ever happened to her.

She looked up and her jaw dropped.

Silhouetted against the watery light of the winter sun was a man, a man with wings that beat slowly as she watched.

'Mommy, Mommy,' Raquel called out, 'come see this.'

'What is it, sweetie?' Raquel's mother asked. She had her back to the street as she locked the front door.

'There's an angel, Mommy,' Raquel insisted, pointing with one mittened hand. 'A real live angel.'

'I don't see anything,' Raquel's mother said, squinting in the light. 'You're not making up stories again, are you?'

'No, I'm not,' Raquel replied, hurt. She strained to see her angel, but he was gone. Back up to heaven, Raquel assumed. 

'There was an angel,' Raquel said, pouting.

'If you say so, sweetie,' Raquel's mother sighed.

Then she took Raquel's hand in hers and walked the little girl to the car.

* * *

Raquel was wrong. Her angel had retreated heavenward, but he was a long way from heaven. Warren Worthington III beat his wings forcefully and threw himself into a loop-the-loop above the clouds and away from prying eyes. He chided himself for flying where people could see him, but the girl had looked so alone and Warren knew what that could be like.

He banked right and began heading home. His usually revelled in any opportunity to fly, but the incident - and the memories it had given rise to - had tainted his pleasure. It was time to get back to work. He had an office on the top floor of the building, as close to the sky as possible. The windows were open, just the way he had left them. Folding his wings so that he could fit through the gap, he fell gently into the room, his bare feet alighting on soft carpet.

He was not alone.

'How did you get in here?' he demanded.

He spread his wings wide. No point in hiding what he was now.

'I told your assistant that I was an old friend,' the taller of the two intruders replied as he got up from his seat. 'Long time no see, Warren.'

'Scott?'

Warren crossed the room in a couple of strides and threw his arms around Scott Summers. Now that he had time to think, Warren was amazed that he had not recognised his friend straight away. Scott squirmed, uncomfortable with the intimacy, and Warren released him.

'How's Maddy?' Warren asked. 'And Nathan?'

'They're fine,' Scott assured him, but Warren picked up on the hesitancy in his voice.

'Something you want to talk about?' he pried.

Scott shook his head and Warren did not press the issue. He had got involved in Scott's love life once before and that had not ended well for either of them.

'If you two have finished catching up,' the other visitor growled, 'maybe we can get down to business.'

Warren turned his attention to the other man and his expression hardened.

'Logan,' he said coldly. 'What's he doing here.'

'Helping me,' Scott said, interposing himself between the two men.

Warren glared at him.

'I know Xavier has a soft spot for that psycho,' he said, 'but I thought you had standards, Scott.'

'Anytime you wanna make something of it, bird-boy,' Logan snarled.

'Enough!' Scott snapped. 'We need to be together on this.'

'No way, Scott,' Warren replied. 'I'm sorry, but I quit the school because Xavier let him in and I don't feel any differently now.'

'At least hear me out,' Scott pleaded. 'For old times' sake.'

Warren scowled.

'Fine. Make yourselves at home.' He picked up a towel from the back of a chair and headed towards the en-suite facilities. 'I'm taking a shower. All of a sudden I feel unclean.'

* * *

'So, do we have a plan at all?' Kitty asked as the struggled through the busy street. Well, she struggled. The Doctor seemed to flow effortlessly through the crowds of last-minute shoppers, but whatever gaps he found had closed up by the time Kitty got there. 

The Doctor spun to face her, walking backwards as fast as he had been walking forwards and yet still not upsetting the crowds. The Santa hat on his head looked ready to fall off, however. He had brought them both hats from a street vendor, but Kitty had refused to wear hers, stuffing it instead in her pocket. The Doctor's crestfallen look had almost swayed her, but she could be stubborn when she wanted to be.

'Of course we have a plan,' the Doctor insisted, looking hurt. 'We find out where your friends are being held and we rescue them.'

Kitty sighed. 'And how are we going to do that?'

'Ah, yes.' The Doctor's face crumpled. Then he brightened again. 'Still, one step at a time and all that.'

Kitty shook her head. The Doctor's omnipresent enthusiasm was great in small doses, but it started to wear thin after a while.

'What we need,' the Doctor was saying, 'is to find one of those Sentinels. Then we can follow it home.'

He beamed, apparently pleased with his logic.

'And what do we do when the Sentinel tries to kill us?' Kitty asked pointedly.

The Doctor pouted. 'It's just an idea'

'Well, I guess it is better than anything I can come up with,' Kitty consoled him. 'So where do we find a Sentinel?'

'That's the spirit,' the Doctor said. 'Now, the Sentinels are supposed to be made by Vaughan Industries so that seems like a good place to start. All we need now is an address.'

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the Doctor was sitting in front of a terminal in an Internet café, his enthusiasm all but evaporated.

'_An_ address, I said. Just one.'

Perched on the desk, Kitty tilted her head so that she could look at the list of names scrolling up the screen. Vaughan Industries, it turned out, was not a small company. Their own portfolio of premises was impressive enough, but when you started taking into account their subsidiaries and their supplierswell, the list was very long indeed.

'Can't we narrow it down a bit?' Kitty asked. 'Okay, a lot?'

'Given time,' the Doctor muttered, '_and_ if we had a better idea of what we were looking for. Somehow I doubt a Google search for 'mutant-killing robot' will help us much.'

'Point,' Kitty conceded. 'So I guess we just start paying each of these places a visit until we hit on the right one.'

'But that would take too long,' the Doctor complained. 'Every minute we waste is another minute these people can do who-knows-what to your friends. No, there must be an easier way. There just has to be.'

'It doesn't help that Sebastian Vaughan is such a recluse,' Kitty added, taking the mouse from the Doctor and following a couple of links. 'No one had seen him in public for months prior to this election campaign.'

'That's it!' 

The Doctor jumped to his feet, tipping his chair over in the process. Kitty's face burned as the other people in the café turned to stare at them. The Doctor carried on oblivious.

'Vaughan's been appearing withwhat's his name, what's his name'

'Campbell,' Kitty supplied. 'Ashley Campbell.'

'Ashley Campbell. That's it!' the Doctor crowed triumphantly. 'And I'll wager he has only one campaign headquarters. What say we pay Mr Campbell a little visit, hm?'

Satisfied, the Doctor sat back down. Unfortunately, the chair was no longer where he had left it.

* * *

Warren winced as he tightened the straps that bound his folded wings behind his back. Scott was watching him carefully, wanting to step in, but holding himself back. He had seen Warren do this before and knew how important it was to him.

Logan had not.

'What's the torture device for?' he asked around his cigar. 'You got a masochistic streak we should know about?'

Warren had asked Logan not to smoke. Logan had ignored him. For one happy moment, Warren had considered having security hurl Logan out of the window, but no ordinary security person was going to be able to make Logan do anything he did not want to. Warren might hate the guy, but he knew better than to underestimate his enemies. It was the kind of thinking his father had instilled in him in preparation for him inheriting his company. 

_An inheritance that came way too early_, Warren mused. It was odd. H and his father had fought often when he was alive and Warren had, loudly, wished his father dead on many occasions. Now that he was gone, however, Warren felt that a piece of himself had been buried along with him.

He dragged his attention back to Logan's question.

'The straps mean I can wear a jacket over my wings,' he explained.

They had been his father's idea. The world could not know that Warren Worthington II's son was a mutant. No one ever came out and said it, but Warren knew that his father's concern had more to do with protecting his own reputation than protecting his son from an angry, bigoted mob. So the best - or rather, the most expensive - doctors were called in to examine the younger Worthington's wings and come up with a way to hide them. And on some days, Warren was even able to convince himself that the illusion was worth the pain.

He finished adjusting the straps and started to shrug his way, cautiously, into a fresh silk shirt.

'Hurts, does it?' Logan asked.

'Like you wouldn't believe,' Warren snapped back.

'I can believe quite a lot,' Logan replied, 'and I'm guessing a blue blood like you feels pain that little bit more easily than the rest of us.'

The temperature in the room fell by several degrees.

'Logan,' Scott warned. But he was watching Warren, keeping an eye on the fury threatening to burst out of his old friend at any moment.

'I have had to put up with this every day for since I turned thirteen and my wings became too large to conceal by normal means,' Warren said, his voice so level it was frightening. 'Pain and I go back a very long way.'

Scott looked from Logan to Warren and back again. Then he took a step back and sat down.

'I'll just sit this one out,' he said. 'Leave you two to settle your differences in your own way.'

'I thought we needed his help?' Logan said to Scott, not taking his eyes from Warren.

'I do,' Scott agreed casually, 'but, if I have to, I can probably get by without yours.'

There was a beat while Scott's words sank in.

'You really think feathers can take me?' Logan asked.

Scott folded his arms and smiled.

'You're crazy,' Logan growled. 'Both of you.'

But he backed down and, just like that, the tension seeped away through the carpet.

'Got anything to drink around here?' he muttered.

'There's mineral water in the fridge.' Logan scowled. 'And there's a bottle of single malt in the cabinet for visitors. Help yourself.'

Logan retrieved the bottle and a glass and poured himself a generous measure. He swirled the liquid around the glass.

'What I don't get,' he said, 'is why you bother? Seems like there's bird in your brain as well as the rest of you.'

'People don't react kindly to mutants,' Warren replied, knotting his tie, 'or hadn't you noticed?'

'Guess I asked for that,' Logan conceded, downing his whiskey in one go, 'but what I meant was, why don't you just run your empire from up here. You've got e-mail and phone. If you don't meet anyone face to face they'll never know what you are.'

Warren retrieved his suit jacket.

'It's not as simple as that,' he explained. 'Yes, I could run my firm without ever leaving this room, but I wouldn't be running it _well_. It's not so much a case of face-to-face dealings being necessary as being preferable. I don't just want to be a businessman, I want to be a good businessman, the sort of businessman my father wanted me to be, and to do that I guess I have to wear the harness.'

Logan's eyes narrowed as he studied the other man.

'Admiring my sartorial taste?' Warren asked, straightening his cuffs. 'I could recommend a good tailor. He'll make even you look presentable.'

'Just trying to work out whether I've underestimated you, Worthington,' Logan admitted.

'I might take that as a compliment,' Warren replied, 'if I actually cared what you thought.' He turned to Scott. 'Now, what was it you wanted my help with?'

'You'll have seen it on the news,' Scott explained. 'Five of the students were kidnapped yesterday.'

'I saw,' Warren said. 'I assume Xavier's mounting a rescue.'

'Nope,' Logan responded. 'Charley's confined everyone to barracks.'

'Except you,' Warren commented.

'I quit the team,' Scott said. 'I'm a free agent.'

'Who'd have thought you'd be the one to betray Xavier,' Warren mused.

'He's not always right,' Scott said simply. 'We found that out the hard way.'

Warren nodded sombrely.

'Hey,' Logan interrupted, 'is there something I'm missing here?'

'Later,' Scott told him.

'What can I do to help?' Warren asked. 'Juts tell me you don't want us to charge in there like the three musketeers. I'm too recognisable a figure.'

'I understand, Warren,' Scott said. 'I know you hate getting caught up in mutant affairs, but I wouldn't have come to you if it wasn't important.'

'Don't worry about it, Scott,' Warren assured him. 'Those kids are in danger. That kind of outweighs my selfish desire to keep out of politics.'

'We need you help to find out where they're being held,' Scott explained. 'Logan and I can take it from there.'

'_That's_ your cunning plan?' Logan spat out. 'How's flyboy supposed to know where to find them? Is he a closet anti-mutant sympathiser or something.'

Warren smiled thinly.

'Something like that,' he said. 'Vaughan Industries is a large company, but even they can't do everything. The contract out work to various other businesses, buy in parts from other suppliers, that sort of thing.'

'And I'm guessing that one of those other businesses is yours,' Scott said.

'More than likely,' Warren admitted.

'And this helps us how?' Logan demanded.

'If you want to build mutant-hunting robots and hold mutants prisoner then you're going to need some pretty specialised equipment,' Warren replied, 'some of which my organisation can supply. And somewhere there's going to be a paper trail we can follow to find out where it's being delivered.'

'And that will be where the kids are,' Scott concluded.

'More than likely,' Warren agreed. He checked his watch. 'Listen, I've got to go to a meeting. I'll get some of my people to look into this for you - quietly - and get back to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, make yourselves at home.'

'Thanks, Warren,' Scott said, 'I really appreciate this.'

Warren turned to leave.

'Hey, wings,' Logan called as Warren put his hand on the door, 'are you telling me you supplied the parts that helped build those Sentinel things.'

'Yes,' Warren said, not looking back.

'So you're helping to hunt down your own kind,' Logan continued, twisting the knife. 'Doesn't that make you just as bad as Vaughan?'

'It was a business arrangement,' Warren snapped. 'A good one. And I'm a good businessman.'

'You're a mutant,' Logan pointed out.

'I'm a human being,' Warren shot back as he stormed out of the office. 

'Could have fooled me,' Logan muttered as the door slammed shut.

* * *

'I don't know whether to be horrified or delighted,' the Doctor confessed.

'How do you mean?' Kitty asked.

'Well, with all these people around it should be easy for us to move about unnoticed,' the Doctor explained, 'but if all of them really are supporters of Campbell's politics'

'Then we've already lost,' Kitty concluded.

The Doctor shook his head.

'Don't think like that,' he admonished her. 'We're here to find your friends, not engage in a political debate. Come on.'

He dived into the throng and Kitty followed in his wake.

The room was decked out like a child's birthday party, with ribbons and banners and rosettes all proclaiming Campbell's greatness. It turned Kitty's stomach.

'Hello dear,' a blue-rinsed woman said, grabbing her by the arm. Her smile was friendly, but her grip was like a vice.

'Have you signed the book?' she asked.

'Book?' Kitty repeated, searching for the Doctor out of the corner of her eye.

'Here,' the woman replied, shoving an A4 book into Kitty's hands. It's to show your intention to vote for Ashley Campbell. The woman handed her a pen. 'Well, go on then.'

Seeing no escape, Kitty hastily scrawled something unintelligible at the bottom of the page. The woman beamed and pinned a button to Kitty's jacket before moving on to terrorise some other poor unfortunate.

'Making new friends,' the Doctor asked, his Santa hat at a jaunty angle.

'Where have you been,' Kitty demanded hotly.

The Doctor looked abashed.

'Around,' he said.

'Can we go now,' Kitty pleaded.

'Go?' The Doctor repeated. 'But it's just starting to get interesting. Look over there.'

Kitty followed the line of his finger. Standing like a statue in the corner was a Sentinel.

'What if it notices us?' Kitty hissed to the Doctor.

'It's deactivated,' the Doctor assured her. 'I think. Now, I'm just going to pop over there and take a quick look at it. Why don't you mingle and see what you can find out by from the people here.'

'Doctor,' Kitty replied, 'I can't stand the people here. Why don't _I_ go and look at the robot while _you_ talk to them?'

The Doctor looked sceptical for a moment then said, 'All right then,' before disappearing back into the crowd.

Suppressing a shudder, Kitty went to have a closer look at the Sentinel.

* * *

'So, what's the story?' Logan asked. He was sprawled in one of the chairs enjoying the company of the bottle of whiskey. 

'I'm sorry?' Scott replied. He was admiring the view from the windows, one hand holding a small, unopened bottle of mineral water.

'Just because I act like a thug doesn't mean I'm an idiot, Summers,' Logan told him. 'You and Worthington know something about Xavier so spill it.'

'He's fallible,' Scott said simply.

Logan grunted.

'Like that's news,' he said. 'No one's perfect, but he's still,' - he made air-quotes with his fingers - 'the most powerful mutant mind on the planet.'

'No,' Scott said. 'He isn't.'

Logan raised an eyebrow.

'Thank about it,' Scott continued. 'If he's that powerful, why didn't he stop us leaving the mansion and disobeying his orders? He must have known what we were planning, right?'

'That's easy,' Logan replied, filling his glass. 'Charley's got moral scruples. He doesn't play with people's heads.'

'Are you so sure of that?' Scott asked. 'You think he wouldn't if he thought the ends justified the means? How do you think he manages to keep control of all those mutants and all those conflicting personalities?'

'You're suggesting he brainwashes everyone?' Logan laughed, but it sounded hollow.

'Why do you think he doesn't just make everyone think that mutants and humans should live in harmony?' Scott persisted. 'Because it's morally wrong or because it's physically impossible?'

'That's a pretty wild story,' Logan said. 'Where do you get your ideas?'

'Xavier told me,' Scott replied. He paused. 'You sure you really want to hear all this?'

Logan shrugged. 'It's not like I'm going anywhere.'

Scott sat down on the edge of the desk.

'I was just a kid back when I first met the professor,' Scott began. 'My parents had been killed in a plane crash. There was only one parachute and' He paused, opened the bottle of mineral water and took a sip. 'Anyway, I ended up bounced from orphanage to foster care and back again. The last guy I ended up with found out I was a mutant and started seeing dollar signs. He figured I could help him and his buddies break into a bank vault and I was too scared of him to fight back. If it hadn't been for the professorwell, I don't like to think of where I might have ended up.'

He took another drink.

'Go on,' Logan prompted.

'Sorry,' Scott said. 'There aren't many people I've told this story to. I don't even know why I'm telling you to be honest.'

'Look, SummersScott,' Logan said, 'if this is too painful for you then that's okay. I don't need to hear this.'

'No, it's okay,' Scott replied. 'It was a long time ago. Seems like another lifetime.

'So, the professor found me and took me back to his school and together we set about gathering others like me. Warren, Bobby and Hank. And Jean. Even amongst the misfits, I never seemed to fit in. The others would flirt and joke around, but I'd always be the one sitting in the corner, watching from a distance. I used to think it was me, that there was something in the way I was that kept me separate, but now I wonder if the professor had always planned it that way. When he was away from the school, it seemed only natural that I should run things in his absence and that only distanced me from the others even more.

'He was grooming me, you see. Xavier wanted me to take over from him when he was gone.'

'I'm still having trouble believing Charley's that manipulative,' Logan confessed.

'I would too,' Scott agreed, 'if he hadn't told me himself.

'The professor has a way of making us all feel as if we owe him something. Maybe that's because we all do. How many of our lives would really have been better if the professor hadn't got involved. How did he find you?'

'I was conscripted into the Canadian military,' Logan replied. 'They saw me as a weapon they could use. Charley gave me a way out.'

'And conscripted you into his army instead,' Scott said. 'Interesting, isn't it?'

Logan scowled.

'Don't take it the wrong way,' Scott continued. 'I honestly believe that the professor works from the best of motives. I even agree with most of his actions. Let me explain.

'About the same time the professor recruited you, he recruited Kurt and Ororo and Peter. We, his original students, had all graduated by then and were only staying at the school as a favour to the professor. But we were getting restless and, with the influx of new blood, we felt we had the chance to leave. Only Xavier didn't want to let me go. So he invited me into his office for a chat and told me everything.

'Xavier has a dream. He wants a world where mutants and humans can live in harmony. But he's not stupid, he knows how difficult that's going to be to achieve, so he cheats. He will do whatever it takes to achieve his aim. It's an obsession to him, but I'm not sure that's a bad thing. Someone should be fighting for mutant rights and if not the professor then who?'

'So he brainwashes us into becoming good little soldiers?' Logan remarked.

'Not quite,' Scott said. 'The professor is supposed to be the most powerful mutant mind on the planet. It's a rumour he started himself. It's a con, to make us think that, no matter how hopeless the mission sounds, we might have a fighting chance. We stop second guessing him. So no, he doesn't brainwash us, but he does use his powers to nudge us in the right direction.'

'What he believes is the right direction,' Logan corrected. 'What I want to know is why didn't he force you to stay, rather than open up to you like that. I mean, I get that he's not as powerful as all that, but he can still alter one mind, can't he?'

'Yes, he can,' Scott agreed, 'but there was a problem. Jean.'

'Jeannie?'

'She wanted me to leave with her,' Scott explained, 'and, entirely involuntarily, she was using her own psychic powers to influence my decision.'

'So they cancelled each other out,' Logan deduced.

'They cancelled each other out,' Scott confirmed. 'Jean had always been a problem for the professor. He had helped her develop her gifts as a small child so she was an obvious choice for his school when she grew older. Unfortunately for the professor, no one could have predicted that, out of all the men at the school, she would be attracted to the solitary misfit.'

'You.'

'Me. She and Warren had a thing going for a while, but she kept coming back to me.'

'So that explains the tension between you and Worthington,' Logan said. 'You got the girl he was after. I know what that feels like.'

'That'spart of it,' Scott conceded. 'The point is that Jean was luring me away from the school and so was a threat to the professor so, with nothing left to lose, he put all his cards on the table to see how I would react.'

'So you turned your back on Jeannie and stayed with the professor,' Logan said. 'I've said it before - you're a dick.'

'Possibly,' Scott conceded with a wry smile, 'but I really did believe in the professor's dream back then. I still do. And it's important that there are people willing to fight for it.'

'But if you feel that way,' Logan pointed out, 'then why did you quit?'

'Because Jean died,' Scott replied, 'and I hold Xavier responsible.'

* * *

'So tell me,' the Doctor began, 'why should I vote for you?'

'Well, um' The young man sitting behind the desk tried not to be too obvious about looking around for help as the stranger in fancy dress loomed over him.

'Come on,' the Doctor encouraged. 'Win me over to your point of view.'

'Well, er, have you read our manifesto?' the young man, whose name was Tim, suggested, handing the Doctor a booklet. The Doctor flicked through it and handed it back.

'There's a typo on page three,' he said. 'Now, what I'm really interested in is your stance on the mutant issue.'

'My what on the what?' Tim asked feebly. Why oh why couldn't someone come and bail him out?

The Doctor sighed and pressed his fingertips down on the table between himself and Tim.

'You're against mutants, am I right?' he said patiently.

'Well, sure I am,' Tim agreed. 'It isn't right. They're dangerous and they need to be locked up. The shouldn't just come into our lives and steal our jobs and our women.'

Tim knew what that was like. He had been a mechanic, back in his home town. That was before Gavin had waltzed into town. Gavin did not outwardly look like a mutant, but he could move really fast. When Jeff, the guy who ran the garage where Tim worked, saw how fast Gavin could get the job down, he realised that he didn't need his less productive staff any more. Staff like Tim. 

Of course, Tim might have been willing to let that one go. He was good at his job - at least he thought he was - and he was confident he could find work somewhere else with people who were prepared to appreciate him. But that was before he saw Clara in Gavin's arms. Tim had been casing Clara since high school. She was, to him, everything a woman should be, except for the fact that she never spared him a second glance. But she was giving Gavin more than just a glance. A whole lot more. It was disgusting, that's what it was, and something snapped inside Tim.

He picked a fight with Gavin that night at the bar, just as soon as he had enough drinks to bolster his courage. The freak didn't even bother to use his speed to defend himself, like he figured Tim wasn't worth the effort. Well, Tim had shown him. Gavin work up the next morning in a hospital bed. Tim awoke in a police cell, which just went to show how skewed the laws in this country were and why they needed people like Ashley Campbell.

'Yes, quite,' the Doctor was saying, 'but how do you intend to go about it?'

'Like I said,' Tim said. 'We find them and we lock them up. I don't mean like a prison, but they need to be kept with their own kind, away from the rest of us. They can have their own schools and bars and bowling alleys, but they just won't be the ones we go to, like they won't be welcome in ours.'

'Yes, that all sounds verynoble,' the Doctor agreed, 'but how are you going to separate out the mutants. I mean, I've heard that some of them look just like us.'

'That's true,' Tim spat.

'Isn't it just,' the Doctor replied. He leaned closer and then said in a whisper, 'How do you know I'm not one, hm?'

Tim scooted back as if bitten and the Doctor laughed.

'That's not funny,' Tim snapped.

The Doctor stopped laughing and his face darkened.

'No,' he said sombrely, 'I don't suppose it is.'

* * *

Warren was sleepwalking his way through the meeting and he knew it. After passionately defending the importance of face-to-face dealings to Logan, he was now giving them far less attention than they deserved. But Warren was troubled and, no matter how hard he tried, he could not clear his head.

Logan had accused him of being a traitor to his own species and the truth was that Warren was not sure he was so very wrong.

He had not asked to be a mutant, had not asked to grow those great white wings behind his shoulder blades. All he wanted, all he had ever wanted, was to live a normal life. That had been his dream even before his wings had sprouted, when he had watched the local kids kicking a ball about in the street. His parents did not want him associating with people like that they said. He was not one of them. He was different, special. He was meant for better things. The words had sounded hollow to his six year-old ears. Now at least he could appreciate the irony. He wondered if his parents had reflected on their statements when he started growing feathers. He was certainly different now, but was he really better?

Warren drew the meeting to a close. They had, at least, reached an agreement on some of the items under discussion and Warren promised to arrange a meeting for next week to settle the rest. Having escaped, Warren went in search of Ricky Seagle, to whom he had assigned the task of tracking down Sebastian Vaughan.

'Any luck?' Warren asked as he stuck his head around the door of Ryan's office.

'Have you any idea how much data I had to trawl through to find this for you?' Ryan complained, spinning round in his swivel chair.

'Sorry,' Warren apologised. Ryan had originally wanted to delegate the task to one of his admin people, but Warren had insisted he do it himself. He wanted as few people as possible caught up in this.

'Hey, you're the boss,' Ryan conceded. 'Anyway, I think I've found the place your looking for.'

He reached behind him and scooped a sheet of paper from the printer. Then taking a biro from behind his ear, he circled an address.

'You sure about this?' Warren asked.

'Well, that's where all the parts are going,' Ryan said. 'Unless Vaughan's having everything moved elsewhere once it arrives'

'Thanks for this, Ryan,' Warren said.

He turned to leave, but paused in the doorway.

'Something else?' Ryan asked.

'Do you think we should be doing business with him?' Warren asked. 'Vaughan I mean.'

'Developing a sense of ethics finally, are we?' Ryan joked.

Warren scowled.

'Sorry,' Ryan said. 'Honestly? In an ideal world, I wouldn't want to have anything to do with Sebastian Vaughan. However, I want to be able to support my wife and kids more.'

Warren nodded thoughtfully.

'Thanks for your help,' he said.

'Hey, anytime,' Ryan told him. 'Just remember this next time you're handing out a raise.'

The elevator doors slid shut softly behind Warren and he barely noticed the slightly lurch as it began its speedy assent. He was focussed on the paper in his hands. All he had to do was hand it over and that would be the end of it. He could tell himself that he had done his bit to help while still keeping resolutely to the sidelines. He could have his cake and eat it too. But wasn't that what Xavier had tried to do?

He closes his eyes and he is back on top of that butte in New Mexico, no one but him and Jean Grey for miles. Even across the years his mind can still bring the scent of her perfume wafting back to him. He recalls the softness of her skin as he took her hands in his and confessed his love to her. Oh sure, so he'd done that sort of thing before, but this time it was different. This time he was sure that his outpouring of raw emotion would win her over at long last.

And slowly, gently, Jean had stripped away the lies and allowed him to see clearly and the ambrosia of love had turned to ash in Warren's mouth as he realised the magnitude of the betrayal.

He stepped out of the elevator and into his office. Both Scott and Logan got up when they saw him.

'Did you get it?' Scott asked.

Warren handed him the paper.

'Now all we have to do is get inside,' Logan muttered.

Warren cleared his throat.

'Leave that to me,' he said. 'I'm coming with you.'

* * *

Kitty shivered. The last time she had seen one of those robots she had been too busy to be frightened. She had been too preoccupied with the whole business of staying alive to really consider what was going on. This Sentinel stood completely immobile, no more threatening than a suit of armour in a museum, yet just the sight of it was twisting Kitty's stomach in knots. No, not the sight of it, Kitty decided, though with the skull-shaped face it was scary enough. Rather, it was what it represented. This machine had been created to kill mutants. It served no other purpose. And that meant that somewhere out there were people who felt that building machines for the sole-purpose of killing people, people like Kitty, was a good idea.

Kitty glanced over her shoulder, glancing suspiciously at the people behind her. All these people wanted to vote for Ashley Campbell, wanted to vote in a man who would unleash more of thesethese _things_ upon her and her kind. And for what? Kitty had never hurt anybodywell, excluding those people whose toes she had stepped on in dance class. She wished she were back at the school, sitting in her room and sharing a joke with Illyana. But Illyana would not be there and that thought gave her the strength to continue.

She turned her attention back to the Sentinel. She was not entirely sure what she was looking for. The Doctor seemed to think that they could use the Sentinel to find out where her friends were being held, but she doubted it kept an address book. Maybe there was a manufacturer's mark on it somewhere or maybe just a stamp saying 'Made in Taiwan'. She leaned in closer for a better look, resting a hand against the Sentinel's casing. She had expected it to be cool and metallic, but instead it felt warm, like plastic. And it was humming. She looked up and saw red lights glowing from deep within the robots eye sockets.

'Doctor,' she called out warily.

'Mutant life-form detected,' the Sentinel announced in its hollow monotone. 'Proceeding with containment.'

'Doctor!' Kitty screamed.

The Doctor whirled were he stood and took in Kitty's plight in an instant.

'Kitty, get down!' he shouted.

Kitty did not get down. If she did so that would put the Doctor in the thing's line of fire so instead she dived forward, straight at it. She recalled disorientating the other Sentinel at the Stock Exchange so she phased as she fell, passing right through the robot. She could hear the electronics pop and crackle as she did so, saw the sparks fly as the Sentinel froze in place.

For a moment so did everyone else.

Then the panic started.

Cries of 'mutant' and 'freak' echoed about the room. Some brave souls started towards Kitty, intending to deal with her themselves, but they were swept away by the majority of people sweeping towards the exits. Still phased, Kitty hurried ghost-like though the crowd. Several people screamed as she walked through them, but Kitty did not care. She only stopped when she reached the Doctor.

'I thought you said it was deactivated?' Kitty demanded, struggling to be heard over the din.

'So I made a slight miscalculation,' the Doctor protested. 'It happens. Now, we'd better get out of here while we still can. That robot isn't going to stay dormant for very long.'

'Take a deep breath and hold on to me,' Kitty told him, offering him her hand.

The Doctor blinked, then did as he was told.

'Mutant threat-level revised in response to hostile action,' the Sentinel said as it began to move again. Adjusting protocols accordingly.'

Kitty did not wait to find out what that meant. Instead, she ran straight at the wall, dragging the Doctor behind her. She felt a slight pressure as she approached the wall and then she was through and in the street outside.

She released the Doctor's hand. He was beaming from ear to ear.

'That was incredible,' he said. 'And that sensation as we passed through the wall? Not unlike static electricity.' A thought struck him and his hands shot to his head. 'My hair's not standing on end is it?'

There was a rumbling behind them and the wall of the building exploded outwards, forcing them to dive for cover.

The Sentinel strode through the rubble.

'Proceeding with termination,' it announced.


	8. Episode Seven

Episode Seven

The Sentinel raised its right arm. Its hand was open and in the palm of its hand, blossoming like a flower, a hole was opening up. A clear tube, maybe glass or plastic, extended from within that space. The tip of the tube began to glow red.

Kitty jumped to one side as an answering red dot appeared on the wall behind her and, beneath the dot, the brickwork began to bubble and melt.

'Mutant entities to be eliminated,' the Sentinel intoned flatly. 'Proceeding with primary directive.'

'Run, Doctor!' Kitty yelled, hurling herself first at, then through the Sentinel.

This time, though, there was no hiss and crackle and shower of sparks. The Sentinel appeared completely unaffected by her phasing.

'This unit has adapted to mutant abilities,' the Sentinel explained. Its legs remained where there were while its torso rotated at the waist so that the robot could face Kitty. It readied the tube in its right hand.

A high-pitched screech, like a computer having a nervous breakdown, tore through the air. Kitty clamped her hands over her ears, but that did little to shield her from the noise.

'Step away from my friend,' the Doctor said.

He was advancing slowly towards the Sentinel. He was also holding a tube in his right hand, but his was grey and metallic and had a bulb at the top that Kitty suspected was the source of the screeching. Kitty was not the only one to be offended by the noise. The Sentinel was reeling, rotating round and round on the axis at its waist.

'Come over here, Kitty,' the Doctor said.

Kitty crawled over to him and the Doctor pulled her to his feet with his free hand.

Then the Sentinel has stopped spinning.

'This unit has adapted to new threat,' the Sentinel said. 'This unit has deactivated auditory receptors. Sonic attacks will no longer affect this unit.'

'Nobody like a show-off,' the Doctor complained, deactivating the noise.

The Sentinel trained its weaponry on them and fired.

And missed.

Kitty had squeezed the Doctor's hand and together they had plummeted into the ground beneath their feet. The Sentinel began pounding at the sidewalk, tearing it up until it had reached the subway tunnel below. Of the two mutants there was no sign, just the lights of the train disappearing into the distance.

* * *

'Let's see if we can find somewhere quieter,' Rachel said.

They had descended into the bowels of the mansion to escape from the chaos above. It had not taken long for the students confined to the school grounds to get cabin fever and it was not a pretty sight. Access to the levels below ground was restricted, which meant they should be quieter. Or so Mina and Rachel had believed.

Peter was in the training room. Mina still recognised him despite the fact that his body now seemed to be composed entirely of metal. By now, Mina could take such a transformation in her stride. A steel barrier had been erected halfway across the training area and Peter was hammering on the barrier with his fists, first one then the other, like a metronome. The metal sung out like a large bell as it buckled and distorted beneath each impact.

'Shouldn't we say something?' Mina asked as Rachel led her away.

Rachel shook her head.

'I think Peter needs to be alone right now.'

Mina considered.

'Peter. Isn't he the brother of one of the missing students?'

'Yep, that's right,' Rachel confirmed. 'Illyana's his kid sister.'

'I am sorry for him,' Mina said. 'And for you.'

'Me? Why me?'

'Didn't I hear that Kitty has also gone missing?' Mina said.

'Kitty's gone of with your friend the Doctor,' Rachel replied. 'I just hope they don't make things worse.'

'Worse?' Mina repeated. 'How?'

Rachel looked away.

'Don't ask.' She heaved open a heavy door. 'Let's go in here.'

It was like being inside a ball. The room was spherical, except for a flattened floor, the walls a smooth blue-grey. The furniture was the same washed-out blue and consisted of a bed, a table and two chairs. Rachel pulled the door closed and it fit so flush to the wall that Mina could barely make it out at all when shut.

'This is a meditation chamber,' Rachel explained. 'It's sound-proofed and it's also designed to filter out as much psionic chatter as possible.'

'Psionic chatter?'

'Everyone thinks too loud.' Rachel sat down. 'To a telepath there is always this background noise of people's stray thoughts. You can train yourself to ignore it, but it's always there. Except in a room like this.'

'So you must like it down here, then,' Mina suggested.

Rachel laughed.

'You think? Thing is, I've got so used to the noise that without it, the silence is a bit of a distraction.'

Mina pulled the other chair out from under the table and sat down opposite Rachel.

'Are you comfortable?' Rachel asked.

'I confess I'm a little nervous,' Mina said.

'You'll be fine,' Rachel replied. 'Just remember, whatever we find in there, it's just a memory. It can't hurt you.'

Mina nodded.

'Now, take my hands,' Rachel instructed, reaching towards Mina, palms upward. 'And relax.'

'That's easy for you to say.' 

Mina took a deep breath and then clasped Rachel's hands in hers.

And then she was someplace else.

* * *

'What more can I say about this violent and unprovoked attack on our campaign headquarters?' Ashley Campbell asked. 'I think the images speak volumes.'

'They do indeed,' Xavier said softly as he studied the images playing across the TV screen. Campbell was standing on the steps leading up to what remained of his headquarters, while delivering a brief statement to the assembled reporters.

'Doctor,' Xavier continued, 'what have you done?'

'I know there are still many of you out there who question my policies on the mutant question,' Campbell continued, 'but I ask you all to just look behind me. Look at what the mutants have wrought and I am certain you will find yourselves asking whether or not my proposals go far enough!'

The picture cut to a reporter, the wind toying playfully with his hair.

'Ashley Campbell reacting to the assault on his campaign headquarters by mutant terrorists,' the reporter said unnecessarily. 'We asked Governor Grayson for her comments on the event and her office issued at brief statement condemning the action, but declining to make any further comment at this time. Now back to you in the studio.'

'Turn it off, Kurt,' Xavier said, massaging his forehead with his fingertips.

'Professor?' Kurt asked, rising from his chair.

'I said turn it off,' Xavier repeated harshly. 'I'm sorry, Kurt,' he added hastily. 'I didn't mean to shout at you.'

'It's quite all right, professor,' Kurt said as he turned off the television. 'You must be under tremendous strain.'

'Must I?' Xavier asked. 'It seems to me that we have just lost the battle so I might as well stop fighting and relax.'

'Surely you do not mean that,' Kurt said.

Xavier shrugged.

'Campbell wanted to show that mutants were a threat,' he said. 'We gave him his evidence on a silver platter.'

'But' 

Whatever Kurt had been about to say was cut off by the ringing of the phone. Xavier lifted the handset.

'Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters,' he said. 'Professor Charles Xavier speakingI seeOf course. In understandI'll see you shortly.'

Xavier hung up the phone and turned to Kurt.

'That was Kim Grayson,' Xavier explained. 'She's on her way here.'

* * *

Mina coughed. Her throat was filled with ash. Something was wrong.

The sky was filled with clouds of black smoke. The smoke blotted out the sun and the stars so Mina was unable to tell if it was day or night. What little light there was came from the occasional flickering streetlight, but most of these had been vandalised and no longer provided any illumination. The windows of buildings had also been smashed and graffiti scrawled across the bricks. Glass crunched underfoot as Mina walked.

Wherever she was, this was not one of her memories.

Where was Rachel? Other than the howling wind, Mina seemed to be alone. She was about to call out, to ask for help, but then she thought better of it. Perhaps it would be best if she did not draw attention to herself. The issue was taken out of her hands, however, as a roar joined the wind's banshee wail. A dark carriage was approaching her from the air, held aloft by a rotating blade like a falling sycamore seed. A bright light shone from underneath this conveyance, creating a white circle on the ground that drove away the shadows and stripped away hiding places.

Then the light was above her, pinning her to the ground like a needle holding a moth secure in its display case. The carriage began to descend and the noise it made was now so loud that Mina had to clamp her hands over her ears. A door opened in the side of the carriage and Mina saw men leaning out, men dressed in black with green lights for eyes. And they had guns.

Mina ran, her feet slipping on the uneven ground. She could hear the men shouting after her, but their exact words were muddied by the rumbling of their vehicle. Then they gave up on words. Bullets ricocheted off the ground near her feet as Mina scrambled down a short slope. She needed to find cover, somewhere their airborne carriage could not go, so she ducked inside one of the buildings. It was just a shell, any signs of habitation having long since been removed, but there were still walls to shelter behind and that would have to be enough.

She crouched low, her heart thundering within her chest. Every breath she took sounded like rough sandpaper running over wood. They would find her, Mina knew. She could not hide from them forever. She could only hope that Rachel would find her before they did.

She heard footsteps approaching and she stopped breathing altogether, doing her level best to disappear. She could hear something sniffing the air, as if searching for her by scent. Had her pursuers brought dogs? Despite a voice screaming in her mind to stay still, Mina risked peeking out into the other room.

Rachel was looking directly at her. Mina sagged with relief, but then her mind was able to take in the rest of the tableau. Mina was on all fours and a metal collar was clamped around her throat. A chain led from that collar to one of the men with lights for eyes. The man had a gun pointed at Mina. The man took three brisk strides across the room and then kicked Mina in the stomach. Stars burst in front of her eyes as she curled up into a ball on the floor.

'Mutie scum,' the man spat. 'The camp's too good for your sort.'

He raised the gun.

'Ellis!' another voice shouted from outside. 'Hurry up and get her ready for transport.'

'Looks like your lucky day,' the man with the gun told Mina. Then he kicked her in the head and everything went black.

* * *

'Kim,' Xavier said. 'What an unexpected pleasure.'

'I doubt that,' Grayson said as she strode in from the cold. 'Can we talk in your office?'

'Of course. Kurt, would you take the governor's coat?'

Grayson recoiled as the blue-furred demon reached out to her. She recovered quickly, but both Kurt and Xavier had picked up on it.

'I'm glad we know where everyone stands,' Xavier said.

'Charles, I' Grayson began.

'There's no need, Kim,' Xavier said. 'This was always an alliance of convenience, let's not insult one another by pretending otherwise. Now, we have a lot of work to do.'

Xavier headed off across the wooden floor towards his office, leaving Grayson to either hurry after him or be left behind.

Kurt watched her go and, when she disappeared from sight, turned and walked outside into the snow.

'Penny for them?' Ororo asked, she was standing in the shadow of an oak, watching over a group of students taking advantage of the weather.

'I doubt they are worth so much,' Kurt replied. 'Just the usual prejudice I seem to find wherever I turn.'

'Except here,' Ororo pointed out.

'That is true,' Kurt agreed, 'but I cannot hide within these walls forever. That is no way to live.'

'And that's why Xavier is working to change things,' Ororo said, 'because we shouldn't have to hide ourselves away and live in fear.'

'And how is he to accomplish this miracle, Ororo?' Kurt asked. 'By making deals with bigots? It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Perhaps the Doctor was right, after all.'

'If you believe that, Kurt, then why are you still here?'

'I do not know, Ororo,' Kurt replied, 'and that troubles me. I want to speak to the professor about my concerns, but every time I approach him I decide to put it off until another time.'

Ororo shook her head.

'Sound to me like your just nervous,' she said.

'Perhaps,' Kurt agreed, 'but I was an acrobat with the Munich Circus for years and never once backed out from a performance, so why am I afflicted with such trepidation now, I wonder.'

'If you ask me, Kurt, that Doctor has shaken us all a bit too much,' Ororo said. 'It would be best for everyone if we just put him behind us.'

'And Sam and Dani and the others?' Kurt retorted. 'Should we just put them behind us as well? Listen to what you are saying, Ororo. How can you justify such thoughts?'

'Professor Xavier is doing what's best,' Ororo insisted. 'I truly believe that.'

'As do I,' Kurt replied. 'I just wish I could reconcile that belief with all my others.'

* * *

'Drink this.'

Mina sat up slowly and took the chipped mug from her companion. Gingerly, she sipped at the brackish water. It hurt to swallow, but with each drop of liquid it became that little bit easier.

'Thank you,' she croaked.

'Don't,' the other woman said. 'Don't thank me.'

She walked back across the room and then slumped down against the wall, her knees tucked under her chin and her wavy brown hair falling down to hide her face.

'Why not?' Mina asked. 'They - whoever they are - can lock us up and take away our freedom, but they haven't deprived us of basic civility.'

'It's not that,' the other woman said. 'It's just that I can't understand why any mutant would want to prolong their life if they didn't have to. And I don't understand why I can't stop myself helping people regardless. Damn it, Charles, what did you turn me into?'

As she cursed, she started to rock back and forth, banging her forehead against her knees. Mina darted forward, concerned that she might hurt herself.

'Don't do that,' she said, putting her hand on the other woman's shoulders and applying just enough force to hold her in place. 'It's all right. It's going to be all right.'

'No. No, you don't understand,' the woman insisted. 'It's not going to be all right. We thought it was. Even when everything was going to hell, we thought we could change things. But you can't fight the inevitable, can you? You can't stand up to Death.'

'Death?' Mina said. 'You mean they're going to kill us? But if that's so, then why haven't they done so already.'

'Public executions,' the woman explained. 'Televised extermination. Bread and circuses for the twenty-first century.'

'But why?'

The woman laughed, harsh and raw.

'Because we were born,' she said.

Mina looked around the room. It was square and grey with a single door. There was a hatch near the top of the door that looked as if it might serve as a window, but the hatch had been closed and Mina could see no way of opening it from this side. There was a smattering of furniture - a table, a chair and two bunk-beds - all bolted to the floor, and there was a sink attached to the wall opposite the door. Light came from a bulb, swinging from the ceiling, and from a small window. The window was right at the top of the wall, too high for Mina to see out of from down here.

'Who are you?' Mina asked her companion. 'My name is Mina, what's yours?'

'Katherine Pryde.'

Mina's eyes widened.

'Pryde? As in Kitty Pryde?'

'Been a long time since anyone called me that,' Katherine said.

Mina stood up and started to pace.

'You can walk through walls, can't you?' 

Katherine tilted her head to one side.

'I seem to recall I could walk through anything.'

'Than why are you still here?'

Katherine shrugged.

'Where else would I go?'

'Somewhere other than here?' Mina suggested. 'Somewhere where people are not trying to kill you?'

'It's a nice idea,' Katherine replied. 'Shame it doesn't exist.'

'What do you mean?' Mina crouched down again so that she could look Katherine in the eye. 'I don't understand. I don't know where I am or what I'm doing here or why people are trying to kill me. Could you explain it to me because I don't see why we just don't walk out of here and go looking for help.'

'We were the help,' Katherine said. 'Then they caught us. Here, take a look out of the outside.'

Katherine stood up and linked her hands to form a stirrup. Nervously, Mina placed one foot in the cupped hands and hauled herself up until her eyes were level with the small window. The glass was yellow and grimy, but Mina could still make out the courtyard below. She could see prisoners, all dressed in matching grey overalls, all milling about with heads bowed, spirits broken. Watching over them were armed guards, but they were not what caught Mina's attention. Instead she focussed on the robots.

'Sentinel's,' she breathed as she climbed down out of Katherine's arms. 'But there are so many of them.'

'Mass production,' Katherine said, 'by will of the people.'

'I don't believe it,' Mina replied. 'I can't believe that anyone would actually want this.'

'Why not?' Katherine asked. 'They were afraid of us. They still are, though I don't see why anymore. The mutant menace had to be stopped, stopped by whatever means necessary.'

'But thisthis is horrible. Can't they see that not all mutants are a threat? People are different. It doesn't make sense to be scared of a whole race.'

'It's not about what makes sense, Mina. It's about what makes you feel safe at night. We're monsters. At least, that's how we were portrayed on TV.'

'But couldn't you put your own case across? Argue your point of view.'

Katherine shook her head.

'We tried, Mina. We really tried. But why run a story about a mutant peace statement when you can run the one about the mutant kid who killed his own family just because he started to excrete acid from his skin when he hit puberty. 

'They voted the mutant haters into government and they passed laws against mutants. We're not human, you see, so we don't have any constitutional rights to breach. They rounded us up and put us in camps. Anyone suspected of being a mutant or a mutant sympathiser could be detained without trial as an enemy of the state. Some of us resisted, those of us who could. The sad truth is that most mutations are a curse rather than a blessing and these monsters had no way of fighting back when the men with guns knocked down their doors. And against those of us that could fight back, they released the Sentinels and the Hounds.'

'I know what Sentinels are,' Mina said, 'but what are the Hounds?'

'Telepaths,' Katherine replied, 'trained to track mutants in return for a stay of execution. They're treated no better than animals, but to some, to many, it's preferable to dying.'

'Is that what happened to Rachel?'

'Poor kid,' Katherine agreed. 'She's one of the best. Commandant Nimrod's personal favourite.'

'How can she do it?' Mina asked. 'How can she betray you like that?'

'It's a matter of survival. She's doing all she can to stay alive. When you're a mutant, you don't have a whole lot of options.'

The door opened and a guard marched in.

'You two,' he barked. 'On your feet. Now!'

'Guess it's finally time,' Katherine said.

'Time for what?' Mina asked, though the weight in her stomach warned her that she already knew the answer.

'Time to die,' Katherine replied. 'You know, after all this waiting, it's almost a relief.'

* * *

'We're dead in the water, Charles.'

Kim Grayson was standing at the window, her forehead resting against the cool glass.

'Would you like some tea, Kim?' Xavier asked. 'I'll be sure to have one of the human-looking students prepare it for you.'

'Okay, you've made your point,' Grayson snapped. 'I overreacted back there. If it makes you feel better, I'll go back out there and apologise to'

'His name's Kurt,' Xavier said, 'and that won't be necessary. An apology is only of value if you mean it and we both know you views on mutants.'

'I'm not in favour of killing them, if that's what you're implying,' Grayson said. 'Nor of putting them in camps. They just make me...uncomfortable, that's all.'

'It's quite understandable, Kim,' Xavier assured her. 'I pity your reaction, but I don't blame you for it. It's human nature, though I do wonder how your political career will fare once you start having to kiss mutant babies.'

Grayson turned away from the window and looked down at Xavier.

'What political career, Charles. After today's fiasco, I'm finished.'

Xavier raised an eyebrow.

'I never took you for the quitting type, Kim.'

'Well maybe I'm just smart enough to know when I'm beaten,' Grayson replied.

She slumped tiredly into an empty chair. Xavier pressed a button on the phone on his desk.

'Marie, could you bring in some tea for my guest and I,' Xavier said. 'Earl Grey, if we've still got any.'

He turned to Grayson.

'I find tea soothing,' he explained. 'I think you could use some.'

'Thank.'

'You know, you could always turn against us,' Xavier suggested. 'If the people are in favour of anti-mutant legislation perhaps you should come out in favour of it as well.'

'Charles, we've just had this discussion,' Grayson said. 'I'm not a mutant-hater, whatever you may think.'

'I wasn't talking about your personal beliefs, Kim,' Xavier replied. 'I'm talking about politics. Publicly supporting mutants at the present moment is political suicide.'

'You could be right, Charles, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it, but the truth is that if I change my position now, I'll just be saying that Campbell was right all along. At least this way I can still claim to have principles.'

'Then I guess we'll just have to find a way to win together, won't we?'

Xavier smiled and Grayson could not help smiling back.

'We haven't got a hope, you know,' she said.

'There's always hope,' Xavier insisted. 'We can't afford to lose this fight, Kim. The future of an entire species depends on us.'

'Aren't you being a little melodramatic?' Grayson said.

'Am I?' Xavier replied.

There was a knock on the door and Marie entered the study carrying a tray of tea things.

'Thank you, Marie,' Xavier said. 'Just leave them on the desk, would you.'

Marie complied, shooting Grayson a venomous glance before leaving.

'She doesn't like me much,' Grayson remarked.

'You called her a terrorist,' Xavier said as he poured the tea. 'People tend to remember little details like that. Milk or lemon?'

* * *

'How are the going to' Mina trailed off, swallowing to clear the lump in her throat. 'How do they intend to kill us?'

'Decapitation,' Katherine replied. 'Mutants with healing factors can survive most other forms of execution, but removing the head tends to do it for everyone.'

They were sitting on wooden benches in the back of the truck that was taking them to their place of execution. They weren't the only people scheduled to die today and Mina could see several others, some human in appearance and some less so, huddled together in grief. Some were going to their fate in stoic silence, others were crying and wailing to wake the dead.

'You seem surprisingly calm about things,' Mina whispered to Katherine.

'I've been a prisoner for years,' she explained. 'For even longer before that I had to watch the world I once loved spiral down into this hell on earth. Honestly, I'll be glad when it's all over.'

The truck stuttered to a halt and the prisoners were herded out. Mina raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight. Up ahead was a raised dais on which sat some form of guillotine. Mina counted five spaces to rest heads while they waited for the blade. How frequent were these executions that they could not do them one at a time?

Cameras ringed the site, ready to broadcast their final moments to the viewers at home. How many people were watching now, Mina wondered. 

The guards began making their way through the group of prisoners, pulling out the first five victims. One guard put his hand on Katherine's shoulder.

'No!' Mina grabbed hold of Katherine's hand.

'It's all right, Mina,' Katherine said, pulling herself free. 'Might as well get this over with.'

'It's not all right!' Tears stung at Mina's eyes. 'They're going to kill you.'

'I know.' Katherine reached beneath the collar of her overalls and withdrew a gold Star of David on a chain. 'I'm not afraid of dying. It's time.'

Slowly, deliberately, Katherine mounted the steps up to the dais. She dropped to her knees in front of the guillotine and placed her neck in the grove worn in the wood. Another four prisoners lined up alongside her. Most put up more resistance and had to be dragged into position by the guards. One was so violent that he was clubbed into unconsciousness and then draped limply over the guillotine.

The executioner raised his hand.

'By the power vested in my by God and the people, I pronounce you guilty of crimes against humanity. You have engaged in terrorism and attempted genocide and for that we have but one punishment.'

'Death!' The voice was loud and artificial. Mina turned to see a Sentinel standing behind her.

'Death!' another Sentinel agreed.

'Death!' a third Sentinel confirmed.

The executioner's arm fell.

'No!' Mina screamed. She started to run forward, but two guards grabbed hold of her and dragged her back.

The blade sliced cleanly through the necks of its victim's and Katherine's head bounced one, twice, three times across the dais before coming to rest in the trough prepared for just that purpose.

* * *

Xavier sipped his tea.

'We can't let Campbell win the election,' he said. 'If he does the consequences will be disastrous.'

'We're not letting him do anything,' Grayson replied, 'but we've run out of cards to play. The public is convinced that mutants are a very real threat and Campbell is offering to protect them from that threat.'

'Then we need to show the public that mutants aren't dangerous.'

'Mutants _are_ dangerous, Charles,' Grayson replied.

'You know what I mean,' Xavier retorted.

'I do,' Grayson said, 'but it's not me you have to convince.'

'It's ludicrous,' Xavier said. 'If someone suggested rounding up all the Blacks or all the Jews and exterminating them they wouldn't be allowed to stand, let alone get this level of support.'

'People have been doing just that for centuries,' Grayson pointed out.

'Perhaps if I went on television,' Xavier suggested, 'put the other side of the mutant case across. Maybe people would sit up and listen then.'

'You've tried it before,' Grayson replied. 'It helps, but not nearly enough to claw back the ground we've lost. You may be an expect on mutants, Charles, but the unpleasant truth is that most people don't want to listen to you.'

'There must be something we can do!' Xavier slammed his fist down on his desk and the tea things jumped.

'There is something,' Grayson began slowly, 'but you're not going to like it.'

Xavier frowned.

'I'm listening.'

'The public may not listen to experts or scientists or politicians, Charles,' Grayson said, 'but they love their celebrities.'

'You suggested this idea to Ororo, Kim,' Xavier said. 'She told you no.'

'I'm not asking Ororo, Charles,' Grayson replied. 'I'm asking _you_.'

She leaned forward in her chair.

'At least think about it,' she said. 'Seventy four per cent of the general public thinks an actor playing the part of the President does a better job than the real thing! Look at the glossies and the tabloids. It's all about celeb-watching. People wear the same clothes as their favourite celebrities, go on the same crazy diets. And they listen to what these people are saying. Mr and Mrs Joe Average aspire to be these people. If a known celebrity came out as a mutant then everyone would want to be one. Mutancy would be the new black.'

'It's a nice idea,' Xavier replied, 'but has it occurred to you that, rather than idolising this celebrity, people are much more likely to want to lynch him? Why else do you think people keep quiet about being mutants?'

'It's a risk we have to take, Charles.'

'No!' Xavier shouted. 'No, it is not. I will not betray people who have put their trust in me.'

'And what about all those other mutants, Charles,' Grayson asked, 'all the students at this school, for example, who look up to you? Are you prepared to betray them?'

'Of course not, but'

'But that's exactly what you're doing.' Grayson jumped to her feet and loomed over Xavier. 'You said it yourself, if Campbell wins then they are finished. We have to get back into this race by whatever means necessary.'

'No,' Xavier insisted. 'There has to be another way.'

'Well, I'm listening, Charles,' Grayson said. 'What's your great solution. If you can come up with a better plan then I'm all for it, but this is all we've got.'

Xavier opened his mouth to reply, but the words would not come. He didn't have any answers.

'I know what I'm asking is difficult for you,' Grayson said, 'but by betraying one mutant, you'll be saving all of the others. Isn't that worth bending your principles a little?'

She leaned in closer, whispering in his ear.

'I only need a name, Charles. I'll do the rest. Just give me a name.'

* * *

'Let go of me!'

Mina fought against the guards, but they overpowered her, wrestling her to the damp ground. The guards bound her wrists and ankles and then picked her up and carried her up to the dais.

'You can't do this to me,' Mina protested. 'You don't have the right.'

'You're a mutant,' one of the guards said. 'That gives us the right.'

'Don't waste your breath on her,' the other guard said. 'It isn't fair to expect her to understand what's happening. Her brain's not wired the same way as ours.'

'I understand perfectly,' Mina said. 'You want to behead me!'

'I'm sorry, miss,' the first guard replied, 'but it's for your own good.'

'Are you insane?' Mina demanded. 'How can my death be for my own good?'

The guards were trying to force her to her knees so Mina went rigid, fighting them. The second guard kicked her legs out from under her and she fell. Neither guard attempted to catch her and she hit the ground hard. They tipped her head forward so that her neck was beneath the blade and then they bound her in place.

'Think about what you're doing,' Mina shouted. 'This is murder. You can dress it up as theatrically as you like to make yourselves feel better, but it's still murder.'

'It's not murder,' the second guard replied. 'It's survival.'

'Look, miss,' the first guard said uncomfortably, 'I don't like this any more than you do.'

'I highly doubt that,' Mina retorted.

'We're just doing God's work,' the first guard continued. 'Man was made in God's image, right, so where's that leave mutants. If you've been created by the Devil than this will purify you and save your soul so that you can get into Heaven.'

'And what if we're God's children, too?' Mina asked. 'Have you thought of that? Maybe we've all be made in God's image.'

The second guard slammed the sole of his boot into the side of Mina's face and her head spun.

'No way was I made in the same image as any stinking mutie,' he said.

The world was spinning and there were tears in her eyes. Mina blinked repeatedly to try to clear her vision. The executioner, dress head to toe in black, towered over her. The three Sentinels's watched her from a distance, ready to pronounce the one and only sentence. And at the feet of the Sentinel's was another figure, crouched down on all fours, her red hair shining like a beacon.

'Rachel,' Mina moaned. 

She spat blood onto the stone in front of her.

'Rachel!' she yelled. 'Help me! Please!'

The executioner raised his hand.

'By the power vested in my by God and the people, I pronounce you guilty of crimes against humanity. You have engaged in terrorism and attempted genocide and for that we have but one punishment.'

'What crimes?' Mina asked. 'I haven't done anything.'

'You were born,' the executioner said. 'That is enough.'

He turned to face the Sentinels.

'What say you?'

'Death!' 

* * *

'I can't,' Xavier protested weakly.

'How many mutants are there, do you think?' Grayson asked. 'A thousand? Ten thousand? A million? More? All I'm asking is for the name of one of them so that we can save all the others. Surely it's worth the sacrifice.'

'I made a promise to help all mutants,' Xavier said. 'How can I betray them now?'

'How can you not?' Grayson replied. 'Look, if you can't bring yourself to say it, why not just write it down?'

She put a clean sheet of paper on the desk in front of Xavier and handed him a fountain pen. He weighed it in his hand.

'Is this all it takes to betray a friend?' Xavier asked. 'For Judas it was just a kiss. You would think, if there was a Supreme Being, he'd make it harder somehow.'

Then he began to write.

* * *

'Death!' the first Sentinel declared.

'Rachel!' Mina shouted. 'Please!'

'Death!' the second Sentinel agreed.

Rachel looked up and met Mina's eyes.

'Death!' the third Sentinel echoed.

'Help me!' Mina begged. 'You brought me here, Rachel. I don't know how and I don't know why, but you have to help me get out of here.'

A tear rolled slowly down Rachel's cheek.

The executioner dropped his arm.

'No!' Mina screamed.

The blade fell


	9. Episode Eight

Episode Eight

The blade fell…

…and then Mina was falling too. She could not see anything, but she could feel gravity tugging at her, could hear the wind rushing past her ears. Then it stopped and everything was quiet. Calm.

'Where am I?' Mina asked. 'Is this death?'

'God, I hope not,' another voice replied. It seemed to come from very far away. 'And to answer your first question, you're safe, no thanks to me. You can open your eyes now if you want.'

Mina did as she was told. Her eyelids had become gummed together so she had to wipe at her eyes with her fingers before she could see clearly. She was in the same blue-grey room she had started out in, sitting on the opposite side of the table from Rachel.

Rachel passed her a glass of water.

'Drink this,' she suggested. 'Your throat's bound to be pretty dry.'

Now that she had said it, Mina did notice that the inside of her throat felt raw and she drank the water eagerly.

'What happened?' she asked when she had emptied the glass. 'I thought we were supposed to be looking at my memories.'

'We were and I'm sorry, Mina,' Rachel said. 'It wasn't supposed to go like that. I guess when we linked minds you ended up experiencing my memories instead of your own. I would have got you out of their sooner, but I guess it all overwhelmed me too.'

'You couldn't have left it much later.' Mina's smile took the edge off of the rebuke. 'If that was just a memory, I suppose that I couldn't have really been injured in there, could I?'

'Do you really want to know the truth?' Rachel asked.

'I think I would much prefer the lie,' Mina replied.

Rachel grinned.

'Then in that case, no, you would have been just fine.'

Mina mustered a weak smile.

'Is there any more of that water?' she asked.

'Sure.'

Rachel stood up and fetched the jug. Mina watched her fill the glass.

'So, that was where you come from,' Mina said.

'My memories of it,' Rachel replied without looking at Mina.

'I'm sorry.'

'Thanks,' Rachel said.

She pushed the glass across the table and Mina picked it up and started to sip from it.

Rachel folded her arms.

'You can say it, you know,' she said.

'What can I say?'

'That question you've been avoiding,' Rachel said. 'How could I do it?'

'That's none of my business,' Mina replied.

'Maybe not,' Rachel agreed, 'but you want to know, don't you?'

'Very well, if you insist,' Mina said, 'how _could_ you do it? You killed people. You killed your own kind, your friends.'

'I never killed anyone,' Rachel insisted.

'So you didn't chop of their heads yourself,' Mina retorted. 'You might as well have done. You hunted them down for their executioners. They might have lived if it hadn't been for your actions.'

'If it hadn't been me, someone else would have caught them.'

'And that justifies it, does it?'

'No, of course it doesn't,' Rachel shouted. 'Nothing ever could.'

She stood up and crossed to the far corner of the room, facing the wall, her arms wrapped about her for protection.

'I was scared, okay,' she said. 'I was just a kid and I didn't want to die. Don't you think I'd made a different choice? Don't you think I'd much rather they had killed me than all those others I helped them find? But I was selfish and stupid and I grabbed at a chance to save my own skin with both hands. Maybe you're better than me, maybe you would have chosen differently, but I was weak and it's too late to change that now.'

Mina rose and went to stand by Mina, putting her arms round the trembling teenager.

'Perhaps I would have made a different choice,' she said softly, 'and perhaps I would not. I hope I never have to find out. It can't have been easy for you.'

'No,' Rachel replied, 'making the choice was easy enough. It's living with the consequences that's the hard part.'

* * *

'Slow down, Kitty.'

The Doctor grabbed hold of Kitty to stop her running off as they emerged from the subway. Kitty spun round to face him.

'Doctor, they'll be looking for us.'

'And running is only going to draw unnecessary attention,' the Doctor replied. 'The best thing we can do is pretend that we belong here and no one will spare us a second glance. Trust me, this isn't the first time I've had to evade the authorities.'

'And how many times have you been caught?' Kitty asked.

The Doctor whistled, pretending he had not heard the question.

'So,' he said, 'which way to the villain's headquarters do you suppose?'

'You don't really expect me to answer that, do you?'

Kitty stuffed her hands deep into her jacket pockets. Away from the heat rising from the subway, the cold hit her like a slap in the face.

'Well, it was by way of a rhetorical question,' the Doctor admitted with a wry smile, 'though if ever there was a time for a clue to fall from the sky…'

'You could always toss a coin,' Kitty said.

'Toss a coin?' the Doctor repeated. 'If free will is an illusion, it would certainly be a means for destiny to point our way.'

'Or,' Kitty replied, 'it would mean we could make a decision and not stand around freezing our butts off.'

'Yes, there is that.'

He rooted around in the pocket of his jacket and removed a handful of change. At least, Kitty assumed it was change. As soon as it was exposed to the sunlight, one of the 'coins' started to crawl for freedom and the Doctor quickly stuffed in back into his pocket. Then, selecting a triangular coin with a hole in the middle, the Doctor flipped it with a flourish. 

'Heads,' he declared. 'Three of them in fact. This way, I think.'

Kitty shook her head in amusement and set off after him.

They were heading north through Chinatown. Pagoda-shaped roofs abounded, and signs declared their messages in flowing Chinese characters rather less colourful English. Ducks and other animals hung outside of shops and restaurants ready to be prepared for dinner. Kitty tried hard not to look.

'What was that?' Kitty asked. The Doctor had said something to her, but she had been paying too much attention to their surroundings and not enough to him.

'I said it's very vibrant around here, isn't it,' he repeated. If her inattentiveness annoyed him, he did not show it.

'That's one word for it,' Kitty muttered in response.

'That's one of the things I love about your city.'

'It's not my city,' Kitty pointed out. 'I just live here.'

'Really?' the Doctor asked. 'So where are you from.'

'Chicago.'

'Hmm, nice place, Chicago.' The Doctor pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'You know, I don't think I've been there since helping out young Elliot with his gangster problem.'

'You're kidding, right,' Kitty replied.

The Doctor tapped the side of his nose and smiled enigmatically.

Kitty sighed.

'You were telling me what you liked about New York,' she prompted.

'Well, it's just such a cultural melting pot, don't you think?' He spread his arms wide and spun slowly on the spot to indicate the entire city. 'So many races and colours and creeds and they all call New York their home. In this part of the city alone we have Chinese, Italians, Indians, Ukrainians, Vietnamese…'

'All carving out their own little community within a community,' Kitty agreed.

'The ghetto principle,' the Doctor said. 'Half a mile or half a world.'

'The what?'

'Most immigrants rarely stray more than half a mile from where they first settled,' the Doctor explained. 'That's how these distinct communities spring up.'

'And half a world?' Kitty asked.

'Or they go home,' the Doctor replied.

'Ah.'

'Indeed,' the Doctor said, 'but I've always been impressed with all these different shades of the city. Yes, there are people with prejudices and yes, there are people who take those prejudices too far, but they are definitely in the minority and it's generally accepted that their views are incorrect. Here everyone is welcome.'

'Except mutants.'

'Yes. That's…disappointing.'

'Disappointing?' Kitty fumed. 'Disappointing? Have you any idea what it's like to be a mutant in this city at the moment?'

'Yes, yes, yes.' The Doctor brushed aside her concern with a wave of his hand. 'I don't mean to trivialise, but you were showing such promise. And by you I mean humanity, not you as in Kitty Pryde.'

'Glad we made that distinction,' Kitty muttered.

'What I mean is, are you aware of how small the genetic difference is between a mutant and a non-mutant human?'

'Yes, Doctor,' Kitty replied with exaggerated patience. 'Surprisingly, they do cover that sort of thing _at a mutant school_.'

'It's a single allele,' the Doctor continued, oblivious. 'Everything else is bundled up in what your twenty-first century scientists still insist on referring to as junk DNA, but that detail, that quirk, that determines whether a human exhibits mutant traits is whether this allele, this so-called x-factor, is 'on' or 'off'. Such a tiny difference blown out of all proportion. I thought humanity would be mature enough to rise above that sort of thing by now.'

'Well clearly we're not,' Kitty spat. 'I'm so sorry my species doesn't match up to your exacting standards, Doctor.'

'Kitty? Kitty, wait,' the Doctor called after her as she stormed off. 'I didn't mean it like that. I got caught up in my own rhetoric and…and I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry.'

Kitty stopped and turned to face him, but her lips curled disapprovingly.

'Kitty, try to understand…no, no, that's patronising…I'm sure you will understand…'

'That's worse,' Kitty pointed out.

'It is? Yes, I suppose it is, isn't it. It's just…' The Doctor sighed and his shoulders sagged. 'Human beings are quite my favourite species. I know it doesn't always seem that way, but they are. I think you're all such wonderful, remarkable people, filled with so much potential. And to see all this, this hatred and prejudice and violence…to see you take such a backwards step in your social evolution…it breaks my hearts.'

'So what do you figure's caused it?' Kitty asked.

'I'm sorry.'

'This 'backwards step' of yours,' Kitty said. 'There must be a reason for it, right?'

The Doctor looked back over his left shoulder.

'Well,' he began, 'if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say it was fear.'

'Fear?'

'Do you think your safe, Kitty?' the Doctor asked.

'I guess.' There was something in his eyes that made her look away.

'Everyone thinks they're safe, Kitty,' the Doctor said. 'Read the paper, watch the television news. Terrible things happen to people every minute of every day. But they'll never happen to you or me, am I right? We feel bad that these things happen, but that doesn't stop us feeling safe, does it? Until one day it happens to us.'

He looked over his shoulder again, at the skyline, or at the skyline as it used to be.

'Something like that, it makes people question everything they believed in,' the Doctor continued. 'Fear breeds at trust's expense.'

They started walking again.

'So, what you're saying,' Kitty began, 'is that people can't afford to trust mutants.'

'Mmhmm,' the Doctor confirmed. They _think_ they can't afford to trust and it's not just mutants. Anyone might be a potential threat.'

'But with mutants, that potential to do harm is more obvious,' Kitty deduced, warming to the theory. 'Like it or not, we have powers and abilities that could be used to hurt people, kill people even. Logically, just because you can do something doesn't mean you will, but I guess fear undermines logic, right, Doctor? Doctor?'

Kitty trailed off as she realised that the Doctor was no longer beside her. Concern was over her like a cold shower. She spun round, searching the crowded street for him. Where was he? Where _was_ he? Just as she was about to give in to panic, she caught sight of his green velvet jacket. He was standing like a statue, much to the annoyance of the pedestrians forced to walk round him, but he seemed oblivious to their complaints. His eyes were transfixed by whatever was beyond the store window in front of him.

Kitty jogged back to his side.

'Doctor,' she asked, 'what's going on.'

He fluttered his left hand to shush her.

In the window were a number of widescreen televisions. One in particular had captured the Doctor's attention. It was showing a news broadcast, specifically their encounter with the Sentinel. They could not hear the sound, but Kitty could get the gist of what was being said from the pictures and the headlines at the bottom of the screen.

'But it wasn't like that,' she protested to nobody in particular.

They were saying that they had attacked Campbell's campaign headquarters. Ashley Campbell was using the 'mutant attack' as evidence to support his policies. He was using their actions to win the election. 

'They're saying that it was an unprovoked attack by mutants,' Kitty deduced, 'and that if the Sentinel hadn't been there to stop them…Doctor, they're saying we're killers.'

But the Doctor wasn't listening. He was muttering over and over to himself.

'What have I done. What have I done.'

Kitty glanced around, feeling suddenly confined. They were not the only ones who had been attracted by the TV. 

'Doctor,' she hissed, shaking his arm. 'Doctor, I think we should get out of here.'

They were showing their faces on the television. How long would it be before somebody recognised them?

'Doctor?'

The Doctor snapped out of his trance, shaking himself awake.

'What was that, Kitty?' He surveyed the crowd. 'Ah, I see what you mean.'

Taking Kitty by the hand, he began to wend his way through the audience.

'Excuse me,' he said. 'Pardon me. Coming through.'

We're going to make it,' Kitty thought to herself. 'We're actually going to make it.

Than a man grabbed hold of the Doctor's jacket.

'Hey,' he said, 'aren't you the guy off the TV.'

The Doctor beamed disarmingly at him.

'You know, I get that all the time.'

The man was far from convinced, but he hesitated just long enough for the Doctor to tug his jacket out of his grasp. 

'Run!' the Doctor shouted, shoving Kitty ahead of him.

As one, the mob turned in pursuit.

* * *

Sam's eyes opened just in time to see the glass partition slide up into the ceiling and out of view. Sam fell forward, no longer wedged inside the tube in which he had been confined. His fall was halted, however, when the various wires and tubes attached to him pulled taut and he was left hanging like a fly in a spider's web.

'Very dignified,' Illyana said.

She was standing below him, hands on hips.

'Could you save the sarcasm for later and concentrate on getting me down from here?' Sam asked.

'Your wish is my command.' A sword materialised in Illyana's hand. 'Hold very still now.'

Sam tried very hard not to flinch as Illyana swung the blade in a long, lazy arc. It severed the wires holding him aloft and Sam tumbled down to the ground. Illyana had the presence of mind to step to one side, making sure that Sam had an unimpeded landing on the hard floor.

'Thanks, 'Yana,' Sam said as he picked himself up.

Illyana grinned.

'You're welcome. Shall we get the others out while we're here?'

Sam looked up.

Suspended above them was a construction that looked like the skeleton of a half-opened umbrella. Four cylinders radiated out like spokes, jutting out at an angle from the central root growing from the ceiling like some twisted metallic fungus. Two of the cylinders were open and empty. Through the glass panels in the other two, Sam could make out Dani and Rahne, both unconscious.

'Where's Doug?' Sam asked Illyana.

He expected a quip. All he got was a sombre, 'I don't know.'

Brandishing her sword, Illyana strode over to the structure holding their friends and started to hack at it.

'What the heck are you doing?' Sam wanted to rush over and stop her, but he hesitated in the face of the wildly swinging sword.

'Getting them out of there, stupid,' Illyana replied. 'You know I'm not technically-minded, Sam. I got you out by chopping bits of this thing until I hit something important.'

'Are you sure that's a good idea?'

'Seems to work,' Illyana remarked as the glass panel in Dani's tube slid open. 'You might want to catch her, by the way.'

Sam launched himself upwards as Dani fell out of the tube and into his arms. He ripped the wires and tubes from her as the descended.

Dani's eyes fluttered open.

'Where am I?' she asked. 'Sam, is that you?'

'Glad to have you back, Chief,' Sam said as they landed. He let her go, then took to the air once more, flying over to Rahne's cylinder. He had to grab hold of it to hold himself in place. He had been told that he would eventually learn to hover using his power. At present, however, he found turning in flight difficult enough.

Illyana continued attacking their prison, unfazed by the sparks falling all around her, and, eventually, Rahne's cylinder opened and Sam helped her to the ground. She was unsteady on her feet so she sat cross-legged on the ground while the four of them reviewed their situation. Unfortunately, their situation boiled down to a lot of questions and very few answers.

'I'm sorry guys,' Sam said, hanging his head. 'This is all my fault.'

'Don't say such things, Sam,' Rahne scolded.

'Why not?' Sam replied. 'It's true. You're only here because I asked you to come with me. The professor told us not to leave the school and I reckon he's been proved right.'

'You're not being fair to yourself, Sam,' Rahne insisted. 'This was as much Illyana's idea as yours.'

Illyana shot Rahne a black look, but she agreed, 'Rahne's right. I'm as much to blame as you are.'

'We all chose to come,' Dani pointed out. 'Nobody was forced, so let's stow the recriminations and concentrate on what's important, namely getting out of here.'

'And finding Doug,' Illyana added.

'We can't leave here without him,' Rahne agreed.

'We won't,' Dani said.

'Do you think the professor and the others will be looking for us?' Sam asked. 'They must know what happened by now.'

'They must be,' Rahne said.

'So what?' Illyana interjected. 'Where are they supposed to start looking? We don't even know where we are or how long we've been unconscious.'

'Illyana's right,' Dani said. 'We have to assume we're on our own.'

Rahne and Sam slumped dejectedly.

'Hey, chin up, people,' Dani said. 'What do you think all our training's been for? We can do this.'

'Doug's counting on us,' Illyana added.

'Now let's get out of here,' Dani said, pointing at the door.

'One exit coming right up, Chief,' Sam said as he prepared to blast through the door.

'Slow down, Sam,' Dani cautioned him. 'Let's try and do this without attracting too much attention.

Sam reddened. 'Sorry.'

'No harm, no foul. Rahne?'

Rahne shifted to her werewolf form.

'I can't hear anybody,' she said, 'or smell them either.'

'Then allow me,' Illyana said. 'Everybody gather round.'

When everybody was standing close, Illyana summoned up a stepping disc. The circle of light swallowed them up and the deposited them in the corridor on the other side of the locked door. 

Illyana frowned.

'You okay?' Sam asked her.

'You mean aside from being held prisoner by some mutant-hating fanatics and their pet robot?' she asked. 'Sure, I guess. It's just…something seemed odd about that jump.'

'Odd how?'

'I don't know,' Illyana replied.

'It'll come to you,' Sam told her. 'Give it time.'

Illyana grunted noncommittally.

Sam turned to Dani.

'Now what, Chief?' he asked.

Dani took an elastic band from her pocket and used it to tie back her long black hair.

'Now we go looking for Doug,' she said, 'and we'll search this building from top to bottom if we have to.'

'And if we happen to see any of those Purity freaks?' Illyana asked.

Sam forced a smile.

'Well I know_ I_ owe them some lumps.'

Dani put a hand on Rahne's shoulder.

'Rahne,' she said, 'I'm relying on you to find Doug for us. If you pick up any trace of his scent - anything at all - you let me know right away, got it?'

'Got it,' Rahne confirmed.

'Then let's go, people,' Dani ordered.

* * *

'I think we've lost them,' Kitty said. She collapsed against a fence to catch her breath.

'Maybe,' the Doctor said, looking back the way they came, 'though it's more likely that they just gave up. Mob mentality is great for mobilising people in short bursts, but it doesn't tend to last over the long haul. Plus, if they really do think that we're killers then I doubt that many of our pursuers were all that keen to actually catch up with us.'

'Fear again,' Kitty said.

'Yes,' the Doctor replied hollowly. 'Fear to which we appear to have added.'

Kitty took a moment to examine her surroundings. Their flight appeared to have brought them into the East Village. Leather and piercings seemed to be the order of the day and Kitty found herself moving closer to the Doctor. Was she betraying her own prejudices? A guy with ram's horns sprouting from his temples walked past. Kitty frowned. He couldn't be a mutant, surely? Not if he was walking around so openly. Then she realised that the horns were fake. Mutancy as fashion statement. The object of her attention caught her eye and leered at her. Kitty looked away hurriedly.

'Doctor,' she asked, keeping half an eye on horny-guy until he disappeared round the corner, 'where do we go from here?'

The Doctor was not listening.

'It wasn't supposed to happen like this,' he muttered to himself. 'I'm should be better than this. I'm the Doctor.'

'Doctor?' Kitty repeated with more volume. 'Doctor?'

She put a hand on his arm and he jumped. He glanced comically in all directions.

'Doctor?'

'Philosophically or geographically?' he said.

'Sorry?'

'In answer to your question,' the Doctor said, 'where do we go from here. Do you want to know philosophically or geographically.'

'Does it matter?' Kitty asked.

'Well,' the Doctor replied, 'it's sure to matter to somebody, but I'm not sure you'd appreciate philosophy right now.'

'So, geographically then,' Kitty prompted.

The Doctor licked the tip of his finger and held it up to the wind.

'That way, I think,' he said, striding off.

'Um, I don't mean to criticise,' Kitty said, 'but how do you know this is the right way?'

'Aha,' the Doctor declared, 'that's the question, isn't it? As I see it, we're either going towards were we want to be, in which case we can try and put a stop to this madness.'

'Or we're going away from it,' Kitty pointed out.

'In which case we won't do any more damage,' the Doctor replied darkly.

The Doctor walked on in silence for a while and then the Doctor's arms suddenly shot out.

'I once shared a flat - an apartment, I guess you'd say - over there with Allen Ginsberg,' he said absently.

'Who?' Kitty asked.

'Sorry?'

'Who's Allen Ginsberg?'

'Who mentioned Allen Ginsberg?' the Doctor asked.

Kitty took a deep breath and counted to ten.

'You did, Doctor,' she said. 'Don't you remember?'

'Did I?' the Doctor asked. Then he looked down at his shoes, embarrassed. 'Yes, I suppose I probably did. Name-dropping is a bit of a nervous tic I have and I've got a lot on my mind at the moment.'

'So who is Allen Ginsberg?' Kitty asked again.

'Allen was a poet and a friend,' the Doctor explained, 'someone who wasn't afraid to stand up for what he believed in. 'What if someone gave a war and nobody came? Life would ring the bells of ecstasy and forever be itself again.' Smart man was Allen.'

The Doctor's focus seemed to drift back into his memories so Kitty took the time to reorient herself. The Doctor had a tendency to draw all her focus, like an attention-seeking black hole, meaning Kitty lost track of where precisely they were at times.

'Want to share?' she asked as she looked about.

'Sorry?'

'You said you had a lot on your mind. I'm listening.'

'I appreciate that, Kitty, but…' The Doctor looked away. 'I'd rather not talk about it.

Kitty shrugged. Well, at least she had tried. The Doctor was clearly upset about something, but she could not force him to tell her what it was. Maybe if she gave him time he would decide to confide in her. Probably not, though.

There had been a concerted effort to reclaim the East Village over the last few years which had resulted in an influx of bars and restaurants and clubs all vying for the title of next big thing. The Orpheus was one such club and Kitty could see the large white writing of its sign beckoning to her from out of a field of black and deep red.

'Orpheus, Orpheus,' she muttered to herself.

'Now who's name dropping,' the Doctor said.

Kitty had thought that he would not be able to hear her so his interruption made her jump.

'I'm just trying to remember where I've heard the name before,' she said.

'Orpheus was the son of Calliope and Apollo,' he explained. 'He took after his mother and became a poet, and his voice was so beautiful that he could charm even inanimate objects, or so the myth goes. Nothing the Maenad's threw at him was willing to strike him. Pity the power of his voice didn't extend to the Maenad's themselves really.'

'Not the myth, the club,' Kitty corrected him, pointing to the sign. 'I'm sure someone at school mentioned it.'

'Doesn't mean anything to me,' the Doctor admitted.

Kitty frowned, then it hit her.

'Of course,' she yelled, grabbing the Doctor's hand and practically dragging him towards the club. 'Come on.'

As they got closer, Kitty could see the posters in the windows advertising the Lila Cheney concert. Lila was Sam's girlfriend, a fact about which they viciously teased him, and, Kitty hoped, Lila would be a friend to them by extension. At the very least, the club would give them a place to lie low while the Doctor came up with a new plan. She frowned again. She would really have to stop doing that or the wrinkles would become permanent. Why was she putting so much faith in the Doctor? She hardly knew him and yet…

The entrance to the Orpheus was barred by a man mountain who looked like he had being taking too many steroids. Way too many. A Lila T-shirt strained to keep his frame contained and John Lennon-style glasses perched in front of tiny eyes.

'What do you want?' he demanded languidly.

He had directed his question at the Doctor, but it was Kitty who stepped forward.

'We're here to see Lila,' Kitty said.

'Concert's not for another hour and a half, half-pint,' the bouncer replied.

Kitty stood her ground.

'We're not here for the concert,' she said. 'Not that we'd say no, but we're actually friends of Lila.'

It was kind of true, Kitty told herself. Well, friends of a friend. She crossed her fingers behind her back.

'Lila doesn't see anyone before a concert,' the bouncer said.

'But…' Kitty protested.

That was as far as she got before the bouncer cut her off.

'Now listen here, squirt…'

But he too was interrupted, this time by a woman's voice coming from inside the club.

'Lay off, Guido,' she said. 'She's just a kid.'

The woman stuck her head around Guido and Kitty did a double-take. The jet-black hair was new, but otherwise…

'Allison?' she asked.

Allison's eyes went wide.

'Kitty?' she said. 'My, you've grown, haven't you?'

'It's what we crazy kids do,' Kitty replied.

She and Allison embraced like old friends. It was difficult with Guido still wedged in the doorway, but somehow they managed.

'You've changed yourself,' Kitty said as they parted. 'What's up with the hair?'

'Long story,' Allison replied.

Kitty waited for her to elaborate, but when it was clear that that was all she was prepared to say she continued, 'Doctor, this is Allison Blaire. You might have heard of her. She used to be known as…'

'No, don't say it,' Allison interrupted quickly. 'Not out here.'

Kitty shot Allison a hurt look, then softened when she saw the expression on Allison's own face.

'Another long story?' she asked.

'Same one,' Allison admitted. 'Come inside and I'll tell you all about it.'

Guido interjected. 'But the boss said…'

'Guido, sweetheart,' Allison said, patting his biceps, 'just trust me on this one, 'kay. Come on, Kitty. Doctor.'

Guido scowled as they filed inside.

'Well, I thought you were very intimidating,' the Doctor consoled him as he passed.

Guido brightened up at that.

* * *

'Sam, on your left,' Dani shouted over the din. 

Sam swerved towards the gunman who had Rahne in his sights. The gunman spotted Sam blasting towards him and quickly changed targets, but the bullets ricocheted off the forcefield the surrounded Sam while he was in flight. Sam collided fists first with the gunman, slamming him against the wall and sending the rifle spiralling out of his grip.

Their assailants had seemed to come from nowhere, dropping from the ceiling and into the midst. Some of the attackers had stayed in the crawlspace above them, ready to pick them off, until Illyana had teleported up there to deal with them. Dani assumed that must have tripped some kind of silent alarm during their hunt for Doug.

She was standing as far from the battle as she could get while still keeping it in sight. It was not fear that held her back, but strategy. From here she had a good view of the whole of the battle and could, she hoped, issue more useful commands. Plus, she did not have to be close by to use her mutant abilities. She focussed on a figure on the far right. So far he had kept himself out of the combat, but Dani could see him moving up to flank Rahne. She reached out and brushed his mind. Her powers were telepathic in nature. She could not use them to communicate, like the professor, or to control, like Xi'an, but she needed to form some connection in order to bring out the man's worst fear. Mutants, like the ones that had manifested in Grand Central Station, appeared in front of the man and began to shuffle forward, menacingly. They were just illusions - Dani was not powerful enough (yet) to give them any substance - but he did not know that and fled. Dani was a little disappointed that he had had the same fear as his colleagues who had originally captured them. She supposed she shouldn't really, but she took a certain pleasure in trying to guess what might appear when she used her power. She had had this guy pegged as spiders, but she supposed that, if you were part of a mutant hate group then mutants probably were what you feared the most.

'Rahne,' she called, barking orders again. 'Sam's in trouble.'

Sam was practically untouchable when flying, but their attackers had managed to force him back into a corner. Soon he would be forced to land and his forcefield would disappear, leaving him defenceless. Rahne did not need to be told twice. Pulling away from the man in black she was sparring with, the werewolf leaped up and over the armed men crowding the corridor, twisting in mid-air so that she landed in front of Sam and facing his opponents. Her claws scythed though the air and tore open one man's dark uniform. Dani hoped that that was all she had torn open, but…well, she would not have blamed Rahne if it was not. They owed these people some serious lumps.

It soon became apparent that Rahne had not caused any serious injury, however, as the man swung his rifle like a club, striking Rahne in the face. She staggered back, colliding with Sam. Dani swore. She had miscalculated. This was all so much easier in theory than it was in practice.

'Why is it you always need me to get you out of trouble,' Illyana said as she materialised beside Sam and Rahne. She quickly summoned up a fresh stepping disc and the three of them disappeared leaving the men in black vainly searching for their targets.

* * *

Sebastian Vaughan watched the quartet's progress on a small monitor screen. 

'Are the tracers working as anticipated?' he asked. 

'Of course,' Dr Currie replied without looking up from her readouts.

'You seem awfully sure of yourself, doctor,' Vaughan said.

'Why should I pretend to be something I'm not,' Currie replied. 'You employ the best, after all.'

'I employ the best because I want results,' Vaughan responded. 'So far, I'm not seeing any.'

Dr Currie spun her chair around so that she was facing Vaughan. She pointed at the monitor.

'Every time the subjects utilise their mutant abilities, my tracers tell us more about the biology - more specifically, the genetics - involved,' she explained. 'Eventually, we should no enough to encode these traits into the DNA of a non-mutant subject.'

'Eventually,' Vaughan echoed.

'These things take time,' Currie replied without the slightest trace of apology. 'In the meantime, it's not as if they're going anywhere.

She nodded to a second monitor. It showed the four cylinders suspended from the ceiling of the room Dani and the others had escaped from. Or believed they had escaped from. The monitor showed that the four students were still trapped inside their containers.

'They're wandering around in a virtual reality maze,' Currie continued, 'and, like any experimental rat, they encounter stimuli at set points along their route.'

'The best stimulus being pain, of course,' Vaughan said.

'If it gives us our desired result,' Currie agreed. 'Meanwhile, we get to keep the specimens exactly where we want them.'


	10. Episode Nine

Episode Nine

_Today's top story is the accusation that Olympic gold medallist and World Champion skier, Jean-Paul Beaubier, is a mutant. This claim appeared in several of the late editions of both local and national newspapers and is said to have originated with a 'highly reputable source'. Beaubier, who is no stranger to controversy following revelations bout his sexuality last year, has yet to release a statement, though the International Olympic Commission has said that, should these accusations prove true, they will have to look carefully at the validity of Beaubier's previous victories._

I was distinctly uncomfortable entertaining the idea of allowing Rachel to enter my mind for a second time. The truth of it was that, no matter what I may have said to comfort her, I still had difficulty accepting her actions. She had betrayed those she claimed to love and who loved her in return. She had allowed them to be executed - worse, she had helped to facilitate their deaths. No matter what she had been through, I could not justify her crimes to myself. I told myself that I had not experienced the horrors she had, that I could not truly judge what they might do to a person, how they might erode one's spirit and sense of morality, but it was that same lack of understanding that made me long to recoil from her touch when she tapped her fingers to my temples in order to initiate contact.

However, despite my reservations, I still needed her help and I could not forget that Rachel had offered it willingly. There was a large chunk of my past that was denied to me, a period of several years that, until recently, I had not even realised was missing. I had to know why and Rachel was prepared to help me find out. It troubled me deeply that I was able to forget my own son so completely. What mother could do that to her child? Perhaps, on reflection, Rachel was not the true monster here.

Rachel reached across the table and placed her fingertips gently against my temples. Her hands were cold.

'Just relax,' she said. 'We'll get it right this time.'

I wondered which of us she was trying to reassure the most.

I closed my eyes and I was falling. Images streamed by me, windows into my past through which I could only catch the briefest of glimpses as I fell. There was Lucy and I on the beach at Whitby and, through another window, my first meeting with Jonathan in London. And there I saw our wedding. He was so frail after weeks of sickness, but he stood with a strength that stirred my spirit even at the memory. I saw myself on my first day of school as a student and, next to that, I saw my first day as a teacher. I do not doubt that it was on the latter that I was the more apprehensive. And there was my younger self at a piano lesson, an art I never took to. I recall that the teacher gave up on me after a mere half-dozen visits.

And then the visions ceased and I was in darkness.

The smell hit me first. In my travels with the Doctor, one of the greatest marvels I had encountered was the cleanliness of the cities. Untidy they may seem to the inhabitants of the day, but at least they were spared the rank smell of bodily waste disposed directly into the street. A sewer system did exist in London, but it was new and, in my time in the city, still not adequate for the task. That said, having been raised in the country, it may be that I had an overly sensitive nose.

Warned by the smell, I was cautious about exploring my environment with my hands, but I could feel cobbles beneath my legs as I knelt. I strained my ears and heard laughter somewhere in the distance. Someone had raised their voice in song. And there, echoing all around me was the clip-clop of horses hooves and the rattling of carriage wheels, getting louder and louder and closer and closer. I clambered ungraciously to my feet and looked about me for somewhere to run, but my eyes were still unable to penetrate the gloom and the echoes made it impossible for me to determine where the carriage was coming from. The noise was deafening now and I felt for certain that the carriage was almost upon me. I raised my arms to protect my face, though of what I thought the value of such protection may be now eludes me.

Then the noise began to fade away as the carriage passed me by. I allowed myself to release the breath I had not even realised I had been holding. My breathing sounded loud and raw amid the quiet.

Gradually, my eyes started to adjust. I could make out two gas lamps on either side of the street I wondered if they had just been lit or if they had always been this way and it had merely taken a time for my eyesight to return. I could see no one who might have set the lamps burning, but the fog was thick and yellow and could hide a multitude. As I had surmised, I was standing in the middle of the street, so I hurriedly made my way to one side, away from any potential traffic - though there was none to be seen - and sheltered beneath the sign of a pub. I could here raucous noise from inside and peered in through the window. The glass must have been filthy, however, for I could make out little more than vague grey shadows.

'So this is the nineteenth century?' a voice said from behind my left ear. 'It's like all those black and white horror movies come to life.'

I turned to face Rachel. She was dressed in a morning suit. Once I would have found it scandalous and, not wishing to be dishonest, I must confess that the sight troubled me. It made me think of the outfit I had chosen for myself when leaving the TARDIS and my cheeks burned with shame. Rachel misinterpreted my embarrassment.

'I know this isn't what a girl should be wearing,' she admitted, 'but I really couldn't cope with all those skirts.'

She gestured at me and I realised for the first time that those tight and unladylike garments I had been wearing had been replaced by a dress in the style I had been used to, in dark blue with white lace at the collar and cuffs. A dark coat protected me from the elements and a long red scarf, which trailed down to my feet, completed the ensemble. Instinctively, I checked to make sure that the scarf concealed my scars.

'Besides,' Rachel continued, 'I think I look pretty good in this.'

I did not reply. I was, however, grateful that, with her short hair, Rachel could pass for a young man so her outfit was unlikely to attract too much comment.

'Let's go inside,' Rachel said, opening the door of the public house. I glanced up to see the name on the sign, but the image had blurred. Perhaps rain had washed away the paint.

We stepped inside and Rachel and I found a table near the door.

'I understand that you know little of where I come from,' I said to Rachel as we sat, 'but it isn't exactly seemly for two women to be in such a place, especially unaccompanied.'

'Who's going to complain?' Rachel asked.

I looked around and did not attempt to conceal my shock. Those shadowy figures whom I had assumed were distorted by the glass, were, in reality, little more than beings of smoke gathered into the approximate shapes of men.

'What are they?' I asked. 'Can they see us? They appear to be ignoring us.'

'Just as you ignored them,' Rachel explained. 'We don't pay a lot of attention to the people around us, usually, so it's no surprise that they're just grey figures in our memories as well.'

'Is that why this place seems so…wrong?' I asked. 'It reminds me of London and yet it is not.'

'It's built from your memories of London and coloured by your emotional attachment to the place. Sometimes a person's memories are an accurate representation of the real thing, but that's rare. Our impressions of what we see are almost always distorted by who we are.'

I took a moment to digest this information.

'So what do we do now?' I asked.

Rachel smiled.

'That's up to you,' she said. 'I'm just along for the ride.'

'We're here to find those memories I've lost,' I said slowly, speaking aloud as an aid to ordering my thoughts, 'and to find out what happened to Jonathan and Quincey.'

'Jonathan and Quincey?'

'My husband and our son.'

Rachel folded her hands on the table and frowned.

'We'll only be able to find the things you remember,' she said. 'You might not have known what happened to them even before you lost your memory.'

'I know that I'm a widow,' I replied, 'but I don't remember being told about Jonathan's death. There must be some information about that here.'

Rachel reached across and took my hand.

'I just don't want you to get your hopes up, that's all.'

I appreciated her concern, but for what other reason had I come here if not to entertain my hopes?

'Jonathan and I lived here in London,' I said. 'That's the way I remember it at any rate. We might learn something there.'

I rose to leave, but Rachel shook her head.

'Allow me.'

The room began to spin. At first I thought that I was subject to a momentary dizziness, but then I realised that the room really was spinning. The room expanded and was picked apart by unseen hands. Walls, furniture, even those wraiths representing people, were taken apart and reassembled in a new pattern, I pattern I now recognised as home. Some things were different. I spotted a chair that had, in my mind's eye, been nearer to the fire, but it was undoubtedly the same chain in which I had sat while bouncing Quincey upon my knee.

'How did you do that?'

'We're not in the real world anymore,' Rachel replied. 'We get to bend the rules a little here.'

I nodded, not really understanding. Where I came from, bending the rules meant turning up late for my studies, not travelling across town in a blink of an eye.

'Jonathan will be in the study,' I said, not wishing to dwell on what I could not explain. 'He was forever working late preparing one case or another.'

I led the way. I had trodden this same path more times than I could count, but never before had this short walk along the hallway filled me with such foreboding. I hesitated at the door.

'Well?' Rachel prompted.

'I'm afraid of what I might find,' I confessed. 'Perhaps these memories were suppressed with good reason.'

'You could be right,' Rachel agreed. 'There's no shame in turning back no if that's what you want. I've got memories I'd rather not have.'

'No,' I said, hesitant at first, but then with more force. 'No. I need to know what happened.'

I reached for the handle and eased open the door.

_And we return now to our top story: the assertion that renowned skiing champion Jean-Paul Beaubier may be a mutant. His many fans had this to say about the story._

_'It's just not true, is it? I mean, does he look like a mutant? Well, does he?'_

_'We're devastated. We looked up to him, especially after he told the world he was gay. He was our hero. But this? How could he?'_

_'I think it's cool. Jean-Paul is the ultimate non-conformist. He's an icon for outsiders everywhere.'_

_'I don't see what difference it makes. So he's a mutant. He's still Jean-Paul, isn't he? Isn't he?'_

_'I feel sorry for him. It's not like he can help it.'_

Madelyne Summers closed the lid of her suitcase and, with an effort, hauled the case off of the double bed and onto the floor.

'Yeah, I just bet Mommy looks very funny,' she said as she caught Nathan laughing at her struggles. 'You know, this would be a lot easier if your daddy was here, but…'

She left the sentence unfinished, but her gaze travelled to the wardrobe where she had left Scott's clothes still hanging. He would want them when he came back. If he came back.

'Come along, little guy,' she said to her son, 'let's go home.'

'Home? Have we done something wrong?'

Madelyne jumped. 'Kurt, you startled me.'

'My apologies,' Kurt said. He grinned and his yellow eyes flashed. 'I do got that reaction a lot, though.'

Madelyne returned the smile. Kurt's humour was infectious.

'I just bet you do,' she said.

'But returning to the beautiful woman for a moment,' Kurt continued, 'you're not leaving us, are you?'

'I thought I'd take Nathan back up to Canada,' Madelyne said.

'But what about Christmas?' Kurt mimed mock horror, by Madelyne could tell that at least some of his hurt was genuine. 'You'll miss the party, not to mention the dramatic recitation Kitty has talked me into.'

Madelyne shook her head, her resolve crumbling beneath Kurt's good nature. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

'I told Scott that if he left then I wouldn't be waiting for him when he came back. I'm leaving him, Kurt.'

'Leaving Scott. But I thought…'

'That I loved him?' Madelyne laughed. 'Of course I love him, Kurt. But I asked him to choose, to choose be a father or to play the hero. He walked out on me, Kurt. _He_ walked out on _me_.'

There was a long, drawn out moment of silence.

'Do you mind if I sit down?' Kurt asked.

'Be my guest,' Madelyne replied. 'Just watch where you put that tail.'

Kurt perched next to her. 'You know, I don't think Scott sees it as playing.'

Madelyne sighed. 'I know that, Kurt. Why do you think I fell in love with him in the first place? Scott has this intrinsic sense of right and wrong coupled with the courage to fight for what he believes in.'

'He's the best of all of us,' Kurt agreed.

'But what about Nathan?'

As if in response to his name, Nathan Summers gurgled.

'Scott has other responsibilities now,' Madelyne continued.

'Scott loves you both very much, Maddy,' Kurt said.

'But he still has to go out and be the hero,' Madelyne replied, 'and one of these days he isn't going to come back. I can cope with that. It's hard, but I went into this marriage with my eyes open. I knew what I as getting into, but I chose Scott anyway. But Nathan didn't make that choice and I don't want him growing up without a father. I would have thought Scott of all people would understand that.'

Scott, like Madelyne herself, was an orphan. Scott's parents had been killed in a plane crash, having sacrificed the last intact parachute to save the life of their son.

'So you're leaving him before…'

Kurt left the sentence hanging in the air, but Madelyne finished it for him.

'Before he makes me a widow, Kurt. That's what you want to say, isn't it? And you're right. When all's said and done, you're exactly right.'

'Scott's already lost one woman he loves,' Kurt began.

'Don't you dare, Kurt,' Madelyne snapped. 'Don't you dare make this about Jean Grey. I'm not her, okay.'

'I never said…'

'No, you never do, do you, but it's what you're all thinking. I'm just a substitute for the real thing. Scott only chose me because I look a bit like the woman he really loves. The only difference is that Jean would be out there fighting the good fight at his side. I'll always be second best to you people, won't I? And I'll always be second best to Scott.'

Disturbed by his mother's shouting, Nathan began to cry. Maddy hurried over to him and scooped her son up in her arms.

'There, there, sweetheart,' she said. 'Mommy's not angry with you. Mommy loves you, and don't you forget that.'

She kissed Nathan on the crown of his head.

'Scott doesn't think you're second best,' Kurt said quietly. 'Neither do I and nor does anyone else here. I loved Jean very much - we all did - and there aren't words to describe how much she's missed. You're not her, but that doesn't make you any less of a person, Maddy. You're different, that's all.'

'That's a nice speech, Kurt.'

'I meant every word.'

Madelyne shook her head, flinging away her tension to the far corners of the room.

'I'm sorry, Kurt,' she said. 'It's just…'

Kurt held up one three-fingered hand.

'You don't have to explain,' he told her. 'Listen, for what it's worth, I think you're wrong about Scott and wrong to leave him like this, but it's not my place to interfere and I'll respect your decision.'

'Thank you.'

'However,' Kurt continued, 'you've got friends here, Maddy, people who care about you a great deal and who will be very hurt if you just walk out on them. Stay for Christmas, at least. You and Nathan deserve to have a good time among friends.'

'Okay, Kurt, you win,' Madelyne replied, conceding defeat. 'I'll stay for Christmas. But after the party, I'm gone.'

Kurt nodded.

'I'll even drive you to the airport myself,' he said, 'assuming that's still what you want.'

_Governor Elisabeth Grayson issued the following statement earlier today:_

_'While I, of course, sympathise with Mr Beaubier's situation and condemn the unwarranted media intrusion regarding his genetic identity, I do feel that this new revelation only serves to strengthen the position of my own campaign with regard to mutancy. My opponent would have you believe that all mutants are monsters, threats to our health and to our way of life. Jean-Paul Beaubier is a sportsman and a celebrity and a hero for many of our young people. He also happens o be a mutant. He is not a monster and he is not a threat. Nor are the majority of mutant Americans - and yes, I do consider mutants to be Americans - nor are they monsters. They just wish to be left alone to live out their lives the same as the rest of us. Yes, there are mutants who are dangerous, in the same way that there are many non-mutants who are dangerous. Less than two percent of the violent crimes in New York last year were committed in New York in the last twelve months were committed by people who have been established to be mutants. Less than two percent. Mutants do not deserve to be rounded up into camps or pursued by robot Sentinels and my administration will continue to oppose any attempts to introduce legislation to do so.'_

I flung open the door. I had to do so in one rushed movement, for I feared that if I hesitated then I would change my mind about opening the door at all. When my eyes register the state of my husband's study, I find myself wishing that I had.

'Oh Mina, is that…' My face told Rachel all that she needed to know. 'I'm so sorry.'

The study was in disarray. Papers and books were torn and strewn across the floor. The chair and the desk had been overturned and the shelves of one of the bookcases had been smashed. But none of that mattered. What mattered was the figure lying in the centre of the room in a pool of his own blood.

That figure was my husband, Mr Jonathan Harker.

I could see that his throat had been torn open. There were other wounds as well, but I turned away so that I would not have to look at them. Rachel put her arms around me.

'I so sorry,' she repeated.

'It's all right,' I said. My voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. 'I already knew that he was dead.'

Unfortunately, that statement was not quite true. Yes, I knew that my memories told me that I was a widow, but now that I knew that there were gaps in my memory, I had started to entertain the notion that perhaps there were inaccuracies as well. I had almost convinced myself that Jonathan might still be alive, but how could I argue with that…that _thing _(I could not even bring myself to call it my husband) lying mutilated on the floor.

In spite of my protests to Rachel, I began to cry.

Whatever reservations I might have had about my companion, they now evaporated as I sought comfort in her arms. He enfolded me, rocking me like a child as I released all the grief and sorrow and anger I had not been aware I had been storing up inside. My husband - my lover, best friend and confidant - had been taken from me and there would forever be a Jonathan Harker shaped hole inside of me. Perhaps, when the count of my days is at an end, I may rejoin him in Heaven, and, in the long nights when, alone in my room, I think of him, that small comfort makes my existence more bearable. However, my inability to age may mean that the span of my life will be long indeed and the cursed nature of my being may mean that Heaven will be denied to me. It is those very fears that make the nights so long.

I felt Rachel's body tense up against mine. I began to ask her what was wrong, but Rachel put a finger on my lips before I could utter a word. She gestured towards the ceiling using only her eyes and, turning my head very slowly, I looked up to see what it was that had spooked her so. A figure, half-hidden by the shadows where the ceiling met the wall, clung to the ceiling like a giant spider. The creature's head seemed almost too big to be supported by its shrunken and emaciated frame. Clothes hung loosely from skeletal limbs. Its eyes glowed an angry red in the dim light. Then it barred its fangs.

I could not help myself; I screamed.

The creature dived from the ceiling and landed over the body, its arms and legs spread out in a pose akin to that of some large insect. It titled its head at an odd angle as it appraised us. One of its claw-like hands had come done in the sticky wetness of my husband's blood. It raised its fingers to its lips and licked them clean. Rachel and I remained clinging to one another, too terrified to move. I wanted to swallow, but there was a painful lump in my throat I could not shift.

The creature sprang.

I was certain that it was aiming for us, that it would do to us what it had done to my husband, but instead it launched itself over us and out through the study door. It scampered nimbly along the hallway and then smashed open the front door with inhuman strength before becoming one with the darkness in the street outside. After a moment, I let go of Rachel and collapsed into the chair, all strength having abandoned me. Rachel leant against the doorjamb and drew in a great lung-full of breath.

'What was that thing?' she asked.

I shook my head wearily. 'I do not know.'

'Well, at least it's gone now.' Rachel stood up straight. 'So, what's our next move?'

'Let's go home,' I sighed.

'Home?'

'The school.'

'But what about Quincey?' Rachel asked. 'I thought you wanted to know what happened to your son?'

'You were right,' I replied. 'There are some memories one is better of not possessing.'

My gaze lingered upon the body, but there was more to my reluctance to explore any further than just my husband's death. I had lied to Rachel about the creature. I had recognised it, its clothes at least. I had purchased them for Quincey myself.

_Jean-Paul Beaubier has issued a statement saying that he will not submit to a DNA test to determine whether the allegations concerning his supposed mutancy are correct. He claims that this would be a gross violation of his privacy. However, many have taken his refusal to submit to a test to be confirmation that he is, indeed, a mutant._

_In reply to the statement issued by Governor Grayson earlier today, he chief rival in the upcoming elections, Ashley Campbell, had this to say:_

_'Undoubtedly by now you will all have heard the news that Jean-Paul Beaubier is a mutant. I'm not a skiing fan myself, but I respect talent in any field and would like to say that Beaubier is a man a greatly admired. Until today._

_'My opponent would like you to believe that Beaubier is some kind of model citizen, the acceptable face of mutancy. Let me tell you what I think. Beaubier is a liar and a cheat. He used his mutant abilities to gain an unfair advantage over his competitors on an international stage. Every single one of those medals has been won not because he had any real talent, but because he is a mutant. Every single one. Do you want your children to grow up in a world where mutants will be allowed to walk all over them? Do you? I know I don't and, if I get elected, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening.'_

'What was that all about?' Madelyne asked. She had entered the common room just as Ororo turned off the television.

'It's all over the news,' Ororo replied. 'Somehow, the press has learned that Jean-Paul is a mutant.'

'Jean-Paul?'

'You know, Beaubier. The skier.' Marie was lounging on a sofa while reading a glossy magazine.

'I know.' Madelyne found a seat for herself. 'I used to have a bit of a crush on him. That was before I met Scott.'

'Hey, just because your married, there's no harm in looking, sugar,' Marie replied. 'And he is kind of cute. Shame he plays for the other team.'

'I didn't know he was a mutant, though,' Madelyne said, 'or, more importantly, that you girls are on first name terms with a superstar.'

'I'm not sure that I would call Jean-Paul a superstar,' Ororo said.

'How many magazine covers was he on last month?' Marie asked her. 'Maddy's got a point.'

'So, how do you know him?'

'He came to the professor for help,' Ororo explained.

'Help?' Madelyne asked. 'How could the Charles help him?'

'Jean-Paul's mutation allows him to move at incredible speeds,' Ororo replied, 'but he couldn't control it. Imagine trying to live a normal life when you do everything at the speed of sound.'

'And she does mean everything,' Marie interjected.

'He became something of a recluse,' Ororo continued.

'You know, I seem to recall reading something about this,' Madelyne said. 'He burst onto the sporting scene as if from nowhere.'

'Not from nowhere,' Ororo said. 'From here. He hid away from the world, knowing he couldn't interact with people in his condition, but too proud to ask for help.'

'But he changed his mind in the end?'

Ororo shook her head.

'The professor sought _him_ out. There are very few of us who came to the professor. In the main, he found us. I was in Africa. I had been adopted by a tribe as their goddess because of my ability to influence the weather.'

'And you gave up being a goddess to come here?' Maddy said. 'Not the choice _I_ would have made…'

'It wasn't real,' Ororo replied. 'Charles showed me that.'

'The professor found me in prison,' Marie said.

'Prison?' Madelyne's eyes widened.

'Didn't Scott tell you?'

'Scott rarely talks about your pasts,' Madelyne said. 'He probably thinks it's invading your privacy or something.'

'That'd be Scott,' Marie agreed, 'but going back to me for a minute, before the professor found me, someone else did.'

'Who?'

Marie shrugged.

'Never did get to meet him. He was some kind of criminal mastermind - or he liked to think he was - and I was just part of one of his cells.'

'Cells? As in terrorists?'

'Got that right, sugar.' Marie hung her head. 'Look, it's not like I'm proud of what I did, okay? But I was young and naive.'

'No one's judging you, Marie,' Ororo said.

'You think that witch Grayson brought up my colourful history just for fun?' Marie asked. 'Look, I just want to try and explain. When I touch someone, I absorb their memories and their strength. If it's a mutant, I get their powers too. Sometimes the transfer is permanent - that's how I got my strength - sometimes it's not. First boy I kissed, Cody…he's still in a coma.'

'I'm sorry,' Madelyne said.

'I was a screwed up kid,' Marie continued. 'I ran away from home because I was frightened of what I could do. But I soon found out that it wasn't just me. Everywhere I turned there were people who hated me for what I was and what I could do. It became easier to turn my anger on them rather than focussing inward. When someone offered me the chance to strike back, to use my powers to fight for the rights of other people like me, I couldn't say no. So I became a terrorist, though I saw myself more as a freedom fighter back then. We all did.'

'And then you got caught,' Madelyne reasoned.

'No, then I gave myself up,' Marie corrected her. 'No way they could have caught me.'

'What caused the change of heart?'

'That's a story for another day,' Marie said. 'Point is, I ended up in prison. And then the professor came and talked me into going with him. Course, first he had to talk the authorities into letting me go. He must have pulled some pretty impressive strings to make that happen.'

'Yeah, I suppose he must.' Madelyne's voice was cold. 'So, you're here out of some sense of gratitude to Charles.'

'No,' Marie insisted. 'Well, yes, but there's more to it than that. I still want to fight for mutant rights. I got it wrong before. This is my chance to make amends.'

'You really think you can 'makes amends'?' Madelyne asked. 'You think that you can somehow make right what you did?'

'Maddy?' The fury coming off Madelyne was palpable and it made Marie nervous.

'Madelyne,' Ororo asked, 'what's wrong?'

'My parents were killed in 9/11,' Madelyne replied.

'That wasn't mutants,' Marie insisted.

'No, it wasn't,' Madelyne said harshly, 'but how is what you did any different? Tell me that, if you can.'

She stood up and strode angrily from the room. Tears brimming in her eyes, she did not see Kurt coming the other way. Kurt, however, saw her, if only at the last moment, and instinctively teleported past her in order to avoid a collision. Stumbling forward, Madelyne started coughing to clear her lungs of the acrid smoke left in her wake.

'I'm sorry,' Kurt said, offering a hand to steady her. 'I should know better than to 'port indoors.'

'And I should know to look where I'm going,' Madelyne replied, 'so I guess that makes us quits.'

'Want to tell me where you were going in such a hurry?' Kurt asked. 'You're not still thinking of leaving us, are you?'

'No. Maybe. Look, I just need to clear my head, okay?'

Madelyne began walking away.

'Would you like some company?' Kurt said, hurrying to keep up. 'For someone who loves the sound of his own voice, I can be a good listener.'

'Suit yourself.' Madelyne crossed the entrance hall and stepped out into the snow-covered grounds of the school.

Kurt looked up at the grey sky.

'Don't go anywhere,' he said, before teleporting away. In a moment he was back, a black woollen scarf coiled around his neck and a coat in his hands that he proceeded to drape over Madelyne's shoulders.

'Thanks, Kurt.'

Madelyne closed her eyes. She was not going to cry, not here, not like this. Dad had raised his little girl to be stronger than that. Besides, she had shed so many tears for her parents already that she was not sure how many she had left.

'I guess now I know why Scott never told me much about Marie,' she said.

Kurt raised a quizzical eyebrow.

'Doesn't it bother you, Kurt, living under the same roof as a known terrorist?'

'Former terrorist,' Kurt corrected.

'You think that makes a difference to the people she's hurt or killed,' Madelyne asked, 'or to the families she's destroyed?'

'You don't know Marie,' Kurt said.

'I know more than I want to.'

'We can't change the past, Maddy, but the future's what we choose to make it. Marie deserves a chance to get it right this time.'

'Does she? I think a lot of people would disagree.'

'May faith teaches me to forgive,' Kurt said.

'Well I guess I don't have that luxury,' Madelyne replied. 'You know, five minutes ago we were talking about how we both used to fancy Jean-Paul Beaubier. Now I can't bear to be in the same room as her.'

'She's not the monster you think she is, Maddy,' Kurt said. 'Trust me on that. It isn't easy being a mutant in a world where everybody hates you.'

'I guess you'd know, huh?' Maddy replied. 'And I guess Jean-Paul is about to find out. How do you think the media found out about it?'

'I suppose that someone must have said something, though I can't imagine who. Jean-Paul would never have told anyone. He even refused to use the word to describe himself when he was here.'

'Then that leaves someone at the school,' Madelyne suggested.

'One of us?' Kurt asked. 'Now you're just being ridiculous. What would we have to gain?'

'I guess…'

'Now, why don't we go back inside,' Kurt suggested. 'You can help me practice my party piece.'

Madelyne sighed.

'You know, Kurt, sometimes I really don't understand you. How can you still be thinking about the party what with everything else that's going on?'

'What do you mean?'

'What do you mean what do I mean? Campbell's going to win the election, there are mutant-hunting robots on the streets, Kitty, Scott and Logan have disappeared, the school is divided because of that doctor's interference - and I can't say I don't agree with him - and, to cap it all, five of your students have been kidnapped. Five of your friends. Isn't that enough for you?'

'Sam and the others will be okay,' Kurt insisted. 'Everything will work out. You'll see.'

'Everything will work out? Is that more of your faith talking?'

'Maybe,' Kurt replied. 'I had a long talk with the professor about it…'

'Your professor,' Maddy interrupted, 'is the one who abandoned Sam, Dani and the others to their fate in the first place.'

'It wasn't like that, Maddy,' Kurt said. 'The professor didn't abandon them. He explained it to me. He chose not to go after them because he didn't want anyone else to get hurt.'

'And because he didn't want to do anything that might spoil Grayson's chances of winning this election any further…' Madelyne trailed off. 'Kurt, how far do you think Charles would go to make sure Grayson wins?'

'You've seen what Campbell's proposing,' Kurt replied, 'and those Sentinel robots of his. I'm sure the professor would do everything he could to make sure he didn't win.'

'Everything?' Madelyne asked. 'Including selling out one of his fellow mutants to give Grayson something she could spin in her favour.'

'I don't like what you're implying, Maddy. The professor wouldn't…'

'Wouldn't he? He's already sacrificed five of his students.'

'The professor's a good man, Madelyne.'

'I'm not saying he isn't,' Madelyne argued. 'But what if he's become blinded by focussing too much on the greater good? What if he's become so obsessed with saving the mutant species that he's forgotten about individual mutants.'

'I don't know,' Kurt began, shaking his head as if to clear it of these painful thoughts.

'Think about it, Kurt,' Madelyne pressed. 'You said it yourself. Who gains? It makes sense.'

'Yes…No…It can't be the professor. It just can't.'

'Why not, Kurt?'

'I doubted him myself for a while,' Kurt admitted, 'but then I talked to him and he explained everything to me. It was all so clear…'

'Then explain it to me, Kurt,' Madelyne said, 'because it seems clear enough to me. If not Charles, then who?'

'I…I don't know.'

_Police have arrested one Timothy Ordway who threw a petrol bomb through the window of Jean-Paul Beaubier's home earlier today. Ordway's parents insist that their son idolised the skier and cannot understand his actions. They describe him as a quiet boy who would not hurt anyone. According to police, Ordway's own explanation for his actions is that he felt betrayed by his hero._

_Beaubier himself was not home at the time of the incident… _

'Do you feel proud of yourself, Charles?' Madelyne asked, nodding in the direction of the television.

Charles turned to face Kurt and Madelyne, who were standing in the doorway to his study.

'It's customary to knock,' he said.

'It's customary not to betray a friend's confidence,' Madelyne retorted. 'Beaubier was your friend, right, Charles?'

'I don't like what you're suggesting, Madelyne,' Xavier said. 'I hope you're not suggesting that I am in any way responsible for this.'

'That's exactly what I'm suggesting, Charles.'

'Madelyne, I realise that Scott's abrupt departure must have been upsetting for you,' Xavier said slowly, 'and I think that that's clouding your judgement. Please consider for a moment what you're saying.'

'Oh, I have considered, Charles. You're so desperate to prevent Campbell from winning this election that you'll do anything, won't you? Was it your idea to betray Jean-Paul or did Grayson put you up to it. He could have been killed today because of you, Charles. Sam, Dani, Rahne, Doug and Illyana may already be dead! How many more are you prepared to sacrifice for your precious dream, Charles? How many?'

Xavier turned to Madelyne's companion. 'And do you agree with this nonsense, Kurt? I should expect better from you.'

'I don't know, professor,' Kurt replied. 'What Madelyne says, it makes sense. I think that maybe you're too close to this and you're not seeing things clearly.'

'_I'm_ not seeing things clearly?'

'Just tell me it isn't true, professor. Tell me and I'll believe you.'

'I shouldn't have to.'

'I notice that's not a denial, Charles,' Madelyne said. 'How do you think your students are going to react when we tell them what we know.'

'You don't know anything,' Xavier replied. 'Besides which, they trust me.'

'Are you so sure of that, Charles. The Doctor got them pretty rattled.'

'If I did anything, and I'm not admitting that I did, then you must believe that I did it for the best of motives.'

'The road to Hell is paved with them,' Madelyne replied. 'That doesn't make it right. It has to stop, Charles.'

Xavier closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

'I can't stop,' he muttered. 'There's too much at stake.'

He looked up.

'Hello,' he said cheerfully. 'What can I do for the two of you?'

Madelyne and Kurt looked at each other in puzzlement.

'Um…to be honest, I'm not quite sure, Charles,' Madelyne admitted. 'There was a reason, but I can't seem to remember what it was.'

'I'm sure it will come back to you,' Xavier told her. 'I doubt it was anything important.'

'Sorry for bothering you, professor,' Kurt said.

'Nonsense, Kurt. You know my door is always open.'

Madelyne spotted the television.

'I see you're watching the news about Jean-Paul Beaubier.'

'Yes,' Xavier agreed. 'A terrible business.'

'Who do you think could have done such a thing?

'I've no idea,' Xavier replied. 'None at all.'


	11. Episode Ten

Episode Ten

Under other circumstances, Kitty might have enjoyed spending a night at the Orpheus. No, scratch that, she was enjoying herself. The music was great, Lila and her band giving a performance that more than lived up to their reputation, and the crowd was friendly, though not too friendly. But best of all was the dancing. Kitty loved to dance. She was grateful to the professor for enrolling her at Stevie Hunter's dance studio, but while the grace and precision of ballet was one thing, there was something liberating in being able to just let herself go. It was less like she was dancing and more that she was letting the music ride her.

She had briefly persuaded the Doctor to hit the dance-floor with her. He had looked distinctly uncomfortable to begin with, but had soon loosened up. However, after three dances, he had told Kitty that he could not keep up with her and had retreated to the sidelines. Kitty did not mind too much though. So long as she had the rhythm and the music, she could pretend to forget, for a while at least, why there were really there.

Mina's eyes snapped open. There was a moment of dizziness as the blue-grey room swam into focus and she placed a hand on the tabletop to steady herself.

'You okay?' Rachel asked.

'Honestly, no,' Mina replied. She stood up.

'Want to talk about it?'

'Not really.' Mina crossed to the door.

'Where are you going?' Rachel asked.

Mina turned.

'Rachel, I need something to turn my mind away from what I have just witnessed until I'm ready to think about it,' she said, 'if I ever am. I need to do something.'

'All right,' Rachel said, rising from her chair, 'like what?'

'I'm going to help the Doctor rescue those students.'

Mina stepped out into the corridor and Rachel hurried to keep up.

'Mina, wait,' she called. 'The professor told us not to. If you interfere you'll only make things worse.'

'How does this thing work?' Mina muttered to herself as she stabbed at the lift's call button. Then she glanced over her shoulder at Rachel.

'Worse how?' she demanded. 'What's worse than leaving a child to die?'

'You saw the future I come from,' Rachel said. 'Do you really want to be responsible for making that happen?'

'So you would rather do nothing?'

'Mina, I…' Rachel hung her head and looked down at her boots. 'I was sent back in time to save my life. It was a time before Sentinels, before camps. Mutants were only just starting to emerge and they weren't yet seen as a menace. There was a chance I could live a quiet, safe, _normal_ life.'

There was a ping and the lift doors slid open. Mina stepped inside and the turned around so that her back was against the far wall.

'What went wrong?' she asked quietly.

'Look around you,' Rachel said. 'What didn't? The whole world's spiralling down to hell. Again.'

Rachel joined Mina in the lift and pressed the button for the ground floor of the school. The doors closed and Mina felt a slight increase in pressure on the soles of her feet as the lift rose.

'I am a stranger here, Rachel,' Mina said. 'I'm not familiar with current events.'

'Doesn't matter,' Rachel replied. 'The point is that things seemed to set on course for my future.'

'So what did you do about it?'

'What makes you think I did anything?'

'We wouldn't be having this conversation if you hadn't,' Mina pointed out.

'Fair enough,' Rachel agreed. 'I went looking for the professor. He's a hero in my time. I felt sure that if anyone could help me then he could. I told him everything. He was sceptical at first - who wouldn't be - but he's a telepath so he knew I was telling the truth. We began to plan how we could prevent my future from happening.'

The lift stopped and the doors slid open again. Mina and Rachel stepped out into a wood-panelled hallway.

'Go on,' Mina prompted.

'Everything we did just seemed to make matters worse,' Rachel said. 'I was living through events that I had only read about before. At best, what we were doing made no difference. At worse, we seemed to be triggering the disasters. Take this election, for example. We thought that having a pro-mutant candidate in office could only be a good thing, but it's polarised the debate. If anything, people are more afraid of mutants than they were before. Would Sentinels and camps be on the agenda if we hadn't interfered?'

'But you had to try,' Mina said. 'You know better than anyone how bad the future could be. You had to try and change that, even if it wasn't possible.'

'You don't understand,' Rachel complained.

A girl with bat-like wings sprouting from being her shoulders flew between them. A fur-coloured child ran down the corridor behind her, a basketball in its hands.

'Excuse us,' it said as it ran by.

Mina waited until they had rounded the corner before saying to Rachel, 'Explain it to me then.'

'I'm the daughter of Scott Summers and Jean Grey,' Rachel replied.

Mina was thoughtful.

'Scott I know,' she said. 'I don't believe that I've met Jean.'

'You won't,' Rachel said. 'She's dead. She died before I got here. She died before I was even born.'

'I don't understand.'

'Told you.' Rachel experimented with a wry smile, but it vanished as soon as it appeared. 'In my history, Scott and Jean are married at this point in time. They've had their first child, a girl they name Rachel. In the here and now, Scott married Madelyne Prior and they've got a son called Nathan. This isn't history as I remember it.'

'But isn't that what you wanted?' Mina asked.

'Are you saying I wanted my mom to die? That I secretly didn't want to be born?'

'No, of course I'm not,' Mina replied, 'and I am really sorry about your mother, but think about it Rachel. This means that history can be changed. The future doesn't have to turn out the way you can remember.'

'I thought that too, for a while,' Rachel said. 'If history can be changed then that must be a good thing right. But it doesn't track, Mina. I used to think that it didn't matter what I did because at least the future couldn't get any worse than what I'd already experienced, but what if it can. By travelling back in time, I killed my mom. What if, by interfering, I've only made things worse?'

The band had finished their first set so Kitty had joined the Doctor for a drink. He smiled when he saw her, then went back to brooding.

'Want to talk about it?' Kitty asked.

The Doctor shook his head and sipped at his lemonade.

'Ohhh-kay,' Kitty said. 'So, what's our next move?'

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

'We're supposed to be looking for Doug and the others, remember?' Kitty pressed.

'Doug, yes,' the Doctor said. 'You know, it's interesting. When talking about your kidnapped friends, most people put Sam and Dani first.

'Well, they are the oldest.'

'But for you it's Doug. Why is that?'

Kitty blushed.

'No reason,' she muttered into her glass.

'Tell me about him.'

'Doug?'

'I'm curious.'

'Okay,' Kitty drained her glass, 'but it'll cost you.'

'Don't go anywhere,' the Doctor said before heading for the bar. He must have had a gift for charming bar staff because he seemed to be gone hardly any time at all before returning, a full glass in each hand.

'So, Douglas Ramsey,' he said, putting a glass down in front of Kitty.

'Doug,' Kitty corrected. 'He hates Douglas.'

'You see, I've already learned something.' He leaned forward resting his elbows on the table. 'Tell me more.'

'Doug's a computer geek,' Kitty continued. 'I guess that's why we get on so well. We can be bonded by our geekdom.'

'The geek will inherit the Earth,; the Doctor said. 'Isn't that what they say.'

'Maybe, but not at Xavier's,' Kitty told him. We're just like any other school and that doesn't exactly mean good things for geeks.'

'I know,' the Doctor agreed.

Kitty studied him for a moment.

'You're not going to tell me you were a geek at school too, are you?'

'I think we might all have been considered 'geeks' in my class,' the Doctor told her. 'Well, maybe not Drax…'

'I can't see it, Doctor,' Kitty admitted.

'Well, it's fair to say I'm not the man I was,' the Doctor replied. 'So is that how you see Doug? As a geek rather than a mutant?'

'I see Doug as a friend,' Kitty replied. 'Labels shouldn't enter into it.'

'But they do, don't they?' the Doctor said. 'We need labels to define our environment. You're a scientist, Kitty.'

'Maybe one day,' she said.

'Close enough for the sake of analogy. Tell me, as a scientist, where would you be if things weren't labelled?'

'That's not a fair comparison,' Kitty said. 'You can't apply the same kind of logic to people.'

'Can't you? We can spend hours describing a person in detail or we can some them up in a few choice words, labelling and filing them into neat little sub-sections.'

'But you can't pigeon-hole people,' Kitty insisted. 'There's too much variety.'

'I agree with you,' the Doctor says, 'but that doesn't stop people doing it. Tell me, do you have cliques at Xavier's? And, when a new student arrive, do you spend the first few days working out which clique he or she should belong to?'

'That doesn't make it right.'

'It's human nature' the Doctor said, 'and, as you humans say, deal with it. It's what's being done with mutants and humans.'

'At least that's scientifically accurate,' Kitty said.

'I'd argue that point,' the Doctor replied, 'but now is not the time. It's not the label that's the issue, it's the baggage it brings with it. When someone talks about mutants they aren't simply talking about one genetic trait. Instead, they're ascribing a whole host of social traits to the label as well. A 'mutant' is a monster, a criminal, someone not to be trusted, someone violent, someone to be afraid of.'

'None of which is true.'

'Actually,' the Doctor says, 'it is.'

'Whose side are you on?'

'The description is true for a small subset of the total mutant population. There is diversity between mutants just as there is between humans, but once we start applying labels we assume, consciously or otherwise, that everything beneath that label is the same.'

'I guess we need better labels,' Kitty said.

The Doctor smiled.

'I call them names.'

'So you're not going to try, is that it?' Mina demanded, walking backwards down the corridor. 'You're simply going to give up.'

'You saw what I am,' Rachel shot back. 'I'm a monster.'

'No, Rachel, you're not,' Mina insisted. 'You were a frightened girl trapped in an impossible situation.'

'A girl who turned on her friends,' Rachel replied. 'A girl who helped execute them. That's what you really think, isn't it? Don't bother denying it. I'm a telepath, remember? I can see into your head.'

'Then perhaps you should look deeper,' Mina said. 'Go on, I won't stop you. Yes, it's true I have trouble understanding what you did. Yes, I think it's horrible and frightening and yes, there is a part of me that thinks only a monster could have done what you did. But that's in the past. There are dark times in my own history as well, Rachel. You only scratched the surface of my memories. Neither of us are the same people we were and, even if you were a monster once - and I certainly don't have enough information to make that kind of judgement - that does not mean that you are one now. You've changed, Rachel.'

'Have I?' Rachel asked. 'Have I really? I killed my own mother, Mina.'

'That's ridiculous,' Mina replied. 'From what you've told me, she died before you even arrived in this time.'

'But my act of travelling back must be what changed history,' Rachel said. 'If I had stayed where I was then, no matter what else happened, at least my mom would have survived.'

'You didn't kill her Rachel,' Mina said.

'How can you be so sure?' Rachel wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

'I've been travelling in time a lot longer than you have,' Mina pointed out. 'Here.'

She handed Rachel a handkerchief.

'Do you know why I first started travelling with the Doctor?' Mina asked, putting an arm around Rachel. 'I was alone. I had lost my husband and my son. I was in Whitby to visit the grave of my best friend. And then the Doctor came along and he seemed to understand what I had seen, what I had been through.'

'So you hooked up with him because your kindred spirits?'

'No,' Mina replied, 'I went with him because I was running away. I was haunted by my past, even if I couldn't remember it. The Doctor offered me a chance to travel in space and time, as far away from my demons as I could possibly get. All I wanted to do, Rachel, was run and hide.'

'What changed?' Rachel asked.

'Nothing changed,' Mina said. 'That's the point. My past is always going to be there. So, as I see it, I have a choice: I can let it weight me down, like a great chain about my throat, or I can try and go forward and live.'

'And the point of this story is that I have the same choice?'

'You've seen the future, Rachel. You can let that glimpse dominate your life, forcing you to inaction brought on by fear, or…'

'Or?'

'You can act.'

Rachel dried her eyes on the handkerchief and then pulled herself upright.

'Okay then, so what do we do?'

Mina stopped. She had latched on to the idea of rescuing the students, but, now that it had been brought to her attention, she realised that she had no idea of how to go about it.

'Well, the first thing we need to do is find out where Douglas and the others are,' she said. 'I don't suppose that you can read their minds, can you?'

'You mean can I locate them telepathically?'

Mina nodded.

'I wish,' Rachel said, 'but I don't have that kind of range. If they were still in the school grounds I'd be fine, but as it is…'

'I understand.'

'The professor should be able to do it,' Rachel suggested.

'But your professor doesn't want us to go looking for them,' Mina said.

'Point. You could always try giving him the same pep talk you gave me.'

'I could, but I doubt he would be as receptive,' Mina said. 'Shall we see if your friends have any ideas?'

She stepped into the common-room. There were several students in there, but the room was not what Mina would consider crowded. She wondered where the majority of the students were since they had been forbidden from leaving the school grounds. Somehow, she doubted they were all studying. Spotting Ororo, Kurt, Madelyne and Marie sitting over by the television, Mina began weaving her way between the chairs and over the discarded drink's cans and pizza boxes to join them.

'Hey guys,' Rachel called out to them.

'Rachel,' Ororo said, inclining her head.

'And Mrs Harker,' Kurt added, grinning wickedly. 'What have you two been up to?'

'Rachel was kind enough to help me out with a problem,' Mina replied. She looked around for somewhere to sit, but, seeing the state of the seats, decided to remain standing instead.

'Well, now that you're here, Ray,' Marie said, 'maybe you can help us out with our problem.'

'Marie wants to put a DVD on,' Madelyne interjected.

'You agreed,' Marie replied.

'Only because it's not like there's anything better to do,' Madelyne said. 'If Charles is going to insist we stay put, you'd think he could at least provide us with something to do.'

'The problem is,' Kurt said, 'that these young ladies, while remarkable in so many respects, have absolutely no taste when it comes to films.'

'And you do?'

'Well, that's what Rachel's here to decide, isn't it?' Kurt said.

'You want me to pick a film for you?' Rachel asked. 'With everything else that's going on, that's your priority?'

Four heads bobbed in agreement.

'What about your students,' Mina said. 'Aren't you concerned about what's happened to them?'

'I'm sure they will be fine,' Ororo said.

'They've been kidnapped by people who think mutants are better off dead,' Rachel replied, her voice rising as she spoke. 'How exactly is that fine?'

'There's no need to get worked up, sugar,' Marie said. 'They're going to be okay. Trust us on this.'

'How do you know that?' Rachel asked.

Kurt looked to Ororo for the answer, but, when none was forthcoming, he turned back to Rachel and said, 'We just know, that's all.'

'You. Just. Know.' Rachel repeated. She put a hand to her head. 'This is insane.'

'Madelyne,' Mina interjected suddenly, 'where's Nathan?'

'He's upstairs, sleeping,' Madelyne replied.

'Are you certain?' Mina pressed. 'When was the last time you checked on him?'

Madelyne opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again.

'I…I can't remember,' she said. Then she rushed from the room.

'Had the rest of you all forgotten about her son as well?' Mina demanded of the others.

'You worry too much,' Kurt said. 'It's not like anything bad's going to happen.'

'It's like they've all be brainwashed,' Rachel said.

'Do you think it could be telepathy?' Mina suggested.

'You think someone's controlling their minds? Well, it would explain a few things. Let me take a quick peak.'

Rachel closed her eyes and concentrated.

'You were right,' Rachel said when she opened her eyes again. 'Someone has definitely been switching things about in there

'Are you saying that someone's been messing with our heads?' Marie asked. 'That's ridiculous. Why would anyone want to do something like that?'

Mina ignored her.

'Can you fix it?' she asked Rachel.

'Why would I want to,' Rachel replied.

Mina took a step backwards.

'Rachel, you know why,' she said. 'We need their help to find Douglas and his friends.'

'Yes, of course. I know that.' The blood drained from Rachel's face.

'Rachel, what is it? What's wrong?'

'I can't fix them,' she said.

'That's all right,' Mina said. 'At least you tried.'

'No,' Rachel said, 'you don't understand. I didn't. I'm pretty sure I could fix the damage, but there's a part of me that doesn't want to. I can't even bring myself to attempt it.'

'Why not?'

'I think whoever altered their minds has done something to me too, to prevent me undoing their handiwork.'

'But who,' Mina asked, 'and why?'

'I've no idea,' Rachel admitted.

'I do,' Madelyne said.

She was standing in the doorway holding Nathan in her arms. The boy was quiet now, but Mina could tell that he had been crying not very long before.

'Is he going to be all right?' she asked.

'He is now,' Madelyne replied, 'thanks to you. I can't believe he did this to me.'

'Did what to you?'

'He brainwashed me into thinking everything was okay,' Madelyne replied, 'and by doing so he put my child in danger.'

'You remember what happened?' Rachel asked.

'The shock of seeing Nathan…it must have broken through whatever did.'

'But who was it?' Rachel persisted.

Madelyne started to reply, but Mina got there first.

'It was Charles Xavier, wasn't it?'

Madelyne nodded.

'That's not possible,' Rachel said.

'Is that what you really think,' Mina asked her, 'or what he's programmed you to think?'

'I…I don't know,' Rachel admitted. 'How_ can_ I know?'

'I think,' Mina said, 'that it's past time that we got some answers.'

The band had done their second set and Kitty had exhausted herself on the dance-floor once again. She slumped down in her chair to find that the Doctor already had a fresh drink ready and waiting.

'So, how was I?' Kitty asked.

'Energetic,' the Doctor replied.

Kitty scowled at him.

'You were as fantastic as I remember, Kitty,' Allison said as she joined them at their table.

'That's what I said,' the Doctor said. Allison and Kitty stared at him. 'More or less.'

Allison sat down.

'People are staring,' Kitty said embarrassed.

'It's not everyone who gets to sit with a member of Lila's band, kiddo,' Allison said.

'You sure that's all it is?' Kitty asked.

'I hope so,' Allison replied.

'Allison Blaire, Allison Blaire,' the Doctor was saying. 'Now where have I heard that name before?'

Kitty was about to help him out, but the Doctor shushed her.

'No, don't tell me,' the Doctor insisted. 'It's on the tip of my mind. I think one of my travelling companions had a poster of you on her wall. Weren't you blonde once?'

'A lifetime ago,' Allison said.

'I know what that's like,' the Doctor agreed.

'Allison used to be a pop star,' Kitty said. 'She used to be called…'

'The Dazzler,' Allison said. 'If we must talk about that, could you please keep your voice down?'

'What happened?' the Doctor asked softly.

'Yeah,' Kitty said, 'when I last saw you, you were set to be a huge megastar?

'I remember,' Allison said. 'I got megastardom, but all too briefly. I guess it was never meant to be.'

'Why not?' the Doctor said. 'I won't pretend your music was to my taste, but you definitely had talent.'

'Thank you, Doctor,' Allison said, smiling. 'Problem was, I was born a mutant. I can turn sound into light. I used to do it as part of my act. I never let on that it was me, though. The audience just thought we had a genius special effects guy. Then someone found out I was a mutant. My record company dropped me in a heartbeat. My CD sales plummeted. Even the most desperate clubs wouldn't hire me to perform.'

'So you dyed your hair?'

'So I dyed my hair and hooked up with Lila as one of her backing singers. Lila's been great about everything and, at least while she's about, nobody's paying any attention to little old me, which is just the way I want it right now. I still get to perform and that's something, right?'

'I'm sorry,' the Doctor said. 'You didn't ask to be born different. You shouldn't have lost your dream because of it.'

'I'm reconciled to it, Doc,' Allison replied. 'It's part and parcel of being a mutant.'

'No, I won't accept that.' The Doctor slammed his palm down on to the table. 'What is it about your race that insists you judge people by what they are rather than who they are? Are you all born blind to the wonderful diversity around you? Maybe prejudice and hatred are species specific traits?'

'Doctor,' Kitty began.

'I have spent most of my life fighting to save your race from alien invasion, from threats from before the dawn of time, from monsters you've created yourself. Why? Answer me that. Why do I bother? You are petty and small-minded and bigoted and cruel and you seem to enjoy nothing so much as inflicting pain on one another.'

'I don't think we enjoy it, Doctor,' Allison said.

'Then why do you insist on doing it all the time?' the Doctor snapped.

There was silence. For a moment it seemed as if everything within the Orpheus had stopped.

'Maybe I'd better go and get us some fresh drinks,' Allison said, starting to rise.

The Doctor put a hand on her arm.

'I'll go,' he said. 'I'm sure you two have a lot of catching up to do.'

The Doctor stood up and sauntered over to the bar. There was a crush of people pressed around it, all fighting to be served. The Doctor did not have the energy to try to force his way to the front so he took up a position at the side, waiting for the crush to abate or, at the very least, thin a little. He had not meant to rant like that, especially not at Kitty who, as far as he could judge, seemed to be a perfectly pleasant example of humanity, but something about this whole mutant business gnawed at him. It was not just the mutants, though. He had been on edge since they had landed on Staten Island, maybe even before that. Maybe back as far as that boy and Tori…

'Hey, handsome, something on your mind?'

The glanced up to see a dark-haired woman beaming at him.

'Yes, you could say that, Miss…?'

'You know, I could take offence at that. I'd like to think my performance up there had made some kind of impression.' She extended a hand. 'I'm Lila Cheney.'

'Miss Cheney, of course,' the Doctor said. 'I'm so terribly sorry. It's like you said, I've got a lot on my mind.'

'It's Lila,' Lila told him, 'and your Kitty's friend, right?'

'The Doctor.'

Lila nodded thoughtfully.

'So, Doctor,' she said, 'do you want to talk about it?'

Mina knocked on the door of the professor's office. Rachel and Madelyne waited behind her. She fought to remain calm, but inside she was bubbling with fury. She remembered what that ginger-haired child had done to her at the TARDIS's last stop. How could she forget the devil's bargain she had made to save the Doctor's life and the consequences of it? This professor was doing the same thing to his students and colleagues, people who trusted him. He might claim to be manipulating them for the best of motives, but the ends could not justify the means, not when the means where so invasive.

'Could you come back later, please,' Xavier called out. 'I'm very busy at the moment.'

'This is important, professor,' Mina replied.

'I'm sure it can wait.'

'No, professor, it can't.' Mina placed her hand on the door handle.

She froze. Something was happening inside her head, like cold fingers dancing across the surface of her brain. Rachel put a hand on her shoulder.

'Maybe we should come back later,' she said.

'No,' Mina spat, using her anger to fight off the intrusion in her own mind. 'He's making you think that, Rachel. Remember why we're here. Remember what he's done to your friends.'

'I don't know,' Madelyne said.

'What about Nathan?' Mina asked her. 'If the professor controls you again, what's going to happen to him?'

Mina opened the door. Silhouetted by the light streaming in though the window behind him, Xavier faced her from the other side of the office.

'I didn't want it to come to this,' he said.

'Mina?' There was a new figure in the room, a man who had not been there a moment before.

'Jonathan?' Mina whispered. He was exactly as she remembered him from their wedding day, frail, but held aloft by courage and pride.

'You don't want to do this, Mina,' Jonathan was saying. 'It's all been a big mistake. Come with me and we can be happy again.'

Mina wanted to go to him, but something held her in place, some tiny voice whispering doubt at the back of her mind.

'Jonathan,' she said, 'what they're doing here is wrong. We have to do try and something about it.'

'No, Mina, we don't.' Jonathan walked towards her and too her hands in his. 'We fought our battle. We've earned our right to some happiness. We were separated too soon, Mina, but we never have to be parted ever again.'

Mina too a step backwards, pushing her husband away. What was wrong with her? She loved this man, so why did his touch fill her with dread? She looked to her companions for help. They were both staring into empty space.

'Daddy?' Madelyne was saying.

Tears were running down Rachel's face. 'Mom? Oh, Mom, you came back for me.'

Mina glared at Xavier.

'Mina, my love,' Jonathan said, but Mina ignored him.

'He's not real, is he?' she said. 'You are inside my head.'

'Mina, please, come with me.'

Back in Whitby, when she had first met the Doctor, Mina had been immune to this kind of thing. Everyone else, even the Doctor, was being plagued by memories of deceased loved ones, but not Mina. Her memories had been locked away so tightly that even she could not get at them. Rachel had helped her get at them again, however, and now that Mina had them back, they were freely available for a telepath like Xavier to play with.

'Get out of my mind,' Mina yelled at him.

'I can't,' Xavier snarled back. Sweat beaded on his bald pate and his face was contorted with the strain. 'I can't allow you to stop me.'

'You don't get a choice.' Mina reached up and tore her silk scarf from her neck. 'You want my memories so much, you can have them.'

She fingered the wounds in her throat and allowed the painful recollections to rise up, allowed the darkness to overwhelm her.

Xavier screamed.

'I hope you don't think I'm in the habit of inviting strange men back here,' Lila said as she led the Doctor into her dressing-room.

'The thought never crossed my mind,' the Doctor replied.

'We'll be able to hear ourselves think in here,' Lila continued, 'and we're less likely to be bothered by my adoring public. Guido'll see to that.'

'Yes, he is rather enthusiastic, isn't he?' the Doctor said.

'See if you can find yourself a seat amid the clutter,' Lila said, turning her back to him as she searched for something in the corner of the room. 'Yes, Guido's a brick. He's been with me since day one.'

'Loyalty in a travelling companion can be hard to come by,' the Doctor said. 'Sooner or later, they all leave you.'

'No Guido,' Lila insisted. 'Not yet, anyway. I think he's got a bit of a crush on me.'

'Is this the part at which I say 'I can see why'?' the Doctor asked.

'Not if you don't want me to call Guido and have him throw you out the building.' Lila turned to face him. She was holding a bottle of wine and two glasses in her hands. 'And you just know he'd enjoy it.'

The Doctor grinned. 'Yes, I suppose he would.'

'I didn't bring you here to flirt.'

'That's a relief,' the Doctor said. 'Not that you're not an attractive woman, I expect, but I'm never entirely sure what I'm supposed to say in these circumstances. But, it does beg the question, why did you bring me here?'

'I watch the news, Doctor whatever-your-name-is,' Lila said, sitting down. 'Here, hold these for me.'

'It's just Doctor,' the Doctor replied as he took the glasses from her.

'I don't suppose you happen to have a corkscrew on you, do you?' Lila asked as she unwrapped the foil from the neck of the wine bottle.

'As it happens, I think I do.' The Doctor produced a corkscrew from his jacket pocket and handed it to Lila.

'You are a man of many surprises, Doctor,' Lila said as she uncorked the bottle. 'Now, as I was saying, I watch the news. I saw what happened to Sam.'

'Yes,' the Doctor said. 'What's your connection to Sam, may I ask?'

'He's my boyfriend,' Lila replied.

'Really?'

'Yes, really,' Lila snapped.

The Doctor held up the glasses defensively.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I wasn't judging.'

'No, I'm sorry,' Lila sighed. 'I'm so used to people making comments that I guess I kinda expect it all the time. Sam's worth it, though.'

'I'm sure he thinks the same of you,' the Doctor assured her.

'He better.' Lila filled the glasses then placed the bottle on the floor before taking a glass from the Doctor.

'But now he's in trouble,' the Doctor said.

'Yeah.' Lila sipped at her wine. 'I saw you on the news too, you know?'

'Yes, I expect you did,' the Doctor replied. 'That wasn't intentional.'

'You and Kitty, you're trying to find Sam and the others, aren't you? I want to help.'

'Feel free to take over,' the Doctor suggested.

'You're not thinking of giving up, are you?'

The Doctor drained his glass.

'Yes, that's exactly what I'm thinking,' he said. 'I'm tired of fighting and fighting to save your race only to see it turn out like…like this. The human race is such an indomitable, indefatigable species and yet you never seem to grow past the same basic flaws, the hatred, the bigotry - why can't you all just try being nice to one another for a change. You might like it. All I want is for you to reach a more enlightened frame of mind, but 'here, you see, it takes all the running you can do to keep in the same place'.'

'_Through the Looking Glass_,' Lila said. 'It's what the Red Queen said to Alice.'

'Charles always did have a much better grasp on reality than the majority of those around him,' the Doctor mused.

'It's a nice speech,' Lila said. 'Do you really mean it?'

'Sometimes,' the Doctor said. 'Sometimes I look around and I marvel at how wonderful and diverse and just plain weird you all are.'

'I _think_ that was meant to be a compliment,' Lila said.

'But sometimes I just look at all the pain and the suffering that you cause to yourselves and I despair.'

'Is that why you were ranting at Kitty earlier?' Lila asked.

'You heard that?'

'I think half the club heard it.'

'I should go and apologise,' the Doctor said. 'I really didn't mean to snap like that.'

'I think she knows,' Lila said. 'What I want to know is why you did it?'

'I've just…'

'Got something on your mind? You said.' She refilled his glass. 'So, do you want to talk about it.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'You're persistent, I'll give you that.'

'It's one of my best features,' Lila replied. 'So spill already.'

'It's a long story,' the Doctor warned her.

Lila laughed. 'That's okay. There's another bottle where this one came from.'

'Okay,' the Doctor conceded, 'I give in. I suppose it all goes back to some time I spent not so long ago in the north of England and a girl I met there named Victoria Gallagher…'

Mina must have blacked out for a moment because when she recovered her senses she was on her knees. Rachel was curled into a ball, sobbing gently.

'She went away,' she cried. 'They took my mom away again.'

Mina crawled over to her, lifting Rachel's head so that she could look her in the eye.

'She wasn't real, Rachel,' she said. 'I'm sorry, but the professor was putting pictures in your mind.'

'Bastard,' Rachel spat.

She began to rise, to go and tackle the professor, but Mina held her back. The professor was sitting limply in his chair, his head in his hands. He looked, to Mina's eyes, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

'Leave him,' Mina said. 'He won't hurt you anymore.'

'I saw my parents,' Madelyne said, joining Rachel and Mina. 'They hadn't died and they wanted me to join them.'

'He gave us what we wanted to stop us from interfering with his plans,' Mina replied.

'How were you able to fight back when we couldn't?' Madelyne asked.

'I don't know,' Mina said. It was a lie. Mina had a very good idea of what made her different, but she did not want to admit it, not even to herself.

Xavier groaned and began to stir.

'Madelyne, take Rachel and get out of here,' Mina said. 'I don't want him trying any more mind tricks on you.'

'What about you?' Madelyne asked.

'I'll be all right,' Mina replied. 'He can't control me.'

Madelyne nodded and led Rachel from the office. Mina waited until she heard the door click closed before going to stand in front of Xavier. He raised his head to look at her. His eyes were bloodshot and their sockets were hollower than Mina remembered. His skin seemed taut and stretched across his skull and he appeared to have aged considerably in the past few minutes.

'I'm just trying to do what's best for everybody,' he said quietly. 'You understand that, don't you?'

Mina slapped him across the face.

'You should be ashamed of yourself. Those people trusted you and you betrayed that trust. Do you have any idea of the damage you've done to Rachel?'

'I didn't want to,' Xavier said. 'You must believe me. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I couldn't let you stop me.'

'Why not?' Mina asked. 'What could be more important than the people in your care?'

'You don't understand,' Xavier said. 'The students at my school aren't the only people in my care. I have the whole mutant species to worry about.'

'The whole species?' Mina repeated. 'When did you become responsible for everyone?'

'It's a long story,' Xavier replied.

'I think that you had better start, then,' Mina said, 'because, from where I stand, it seems that you are jeopardising people's lives just so that you can play at being god.'

'It's not like that,' Xavier insisted. 'You've spoken to Rachel. You know what the future holds for mutants if somebody doesn't do something.'

'And you're saying that a few lives here and there don't matter when weighed against that?' Mina said.

'Yes. I know it's an appalling thing to say, but it's true. What's at stake here is too big.'

'And who gave you the right to decide who lives and who dies?' Mina asked.

'Someone has to,' Xavier said. 'I never asked for it to be, but I couldn't just stand by and do nothing, not after…'

'After what?'

Xavier buried his head in his hands again and, despite herself, Mina could not help but feel pity for him. She sat down on one of the free chairs.

'Tell me what happened, Charles,' she prompted. 'Help me to understand why you did what you did.'

Xavier looked up, hope putting light in his eyes.

'You believe me? You agree that I was acting for the greater good?'

'No,' Mina replied. 'No, I don't. But I am willing to listen and to give you the chance to prove otherwise.'

'I suppose that it is more than I deserve.'

'Yes, it is.' The comment was harsh, but Xavier had tried to use Jonathan's memory against her. There were far more painful things Mina wanted to do to him because of that, but she would hold herself in check.

Xavier cleared his throat.

'I guess it began some time ago, before I lost the use of my legs,' he said, 'back when I was young and in love with a woman named Amelia Voght…'


	12. Episode Eleven

Episode Eleven

'This isn't bad.' The Doctor sipped at his wine. 'Not bad at all.'

'Glad you like it,' Lila said.

'Of course, the alcohol's not going to have any effect on me, if that's what you were intending,' the Doctor continued. 'Alien metabolism.'

'Right,' Lila replied. 'So, you were going to tell me about Victoria Gallagher.'

'Yes, I was, wasn't I? Victoria Gallagher was a teenage girl I met when Mina and I landed in Newcastle recently.'

'Mina?'

'Mina Harker,' the Doctor explained. 'My travelling companion.'

'Girlfriend?'

'No.'

'Mmhmm. Go on.'

'I don't think Tori had had a very happy childhood,' the Doctor said. 'I think maybe her father beat her. Or worse. I'm not certain. There wasn't time for me to get to know her that well.'

'Poor kid.'

'You don't know the half of it.'

'So how did you know her?' Lila asked.

'We had ice-cream in the park,' he said, smiling slightly at the memory.

'Really? What flavour?'

'Raspberry Ripple and Mint Choc Chip. We sat on the swings and talked about life, the universe and everything. I hope she enjoyed it. I guess it doesn't seem like much as a last meal. This was all after she died, by the way.'

'After she… I'm sorry, Doctor, but you've lost me.'

'As I said, Tori had a difficult childhood,' the Doctor explained. 'She wanted to get out and had pinned her hopes on getting into college.'

'She didn't, did she?' Lila deduced.

The Doctor shook his head.

'Her grades weren't quite good enough,' he said. 'She could have applied elsewhere, of course, or maybe reapplied to the same college the following year, but I think it was all just too much for her. Or maybe something else happened on her way home from school. I'm not entirely sure. My memories aren't too clear.'

'I see she made a real impression.'

'She did,' the Doctor replied, ignoring the sarcasm, 'but something was playing games with my mind at the time. I think. The point is that when Tori got home, she locked herself in her room and overdosed on her mother's sleeping pills.'

---

'I was in the US Army,' Xavier said. 'It had been my stepfather's idea to enlist and I hadn't argued because it gave me an opportunity to see the back of him. I guess I wasn't cut out to be a soldier, though, because I was injured and hospitalised during by first tour of duty abroad. Bed rest had its advantages, though, because it was in the hospital that I met a nurse named Amelia Voght. I used to make up stories of my heroics to try and impress her, but she saw right through me. I guess she must have appreciated the effort though because whatever I was feeling for her, she felt the same way.

'I quit the army and trained to be a medic. Amy was with the Red Cross and used to travel the world helping victims caught up in war and violence. I'd like to say I joined them because I could see the merit in what they were doing, but mainly it was so I could be close to Amy. We still weren't sure what exactly we felt for each other, but the more time we spent together, the stronger our feelings grew until there could be no doubt that we were deeply in love. One night I broached the subject of marriage, but Amy shot me down. She felt the concept was antiquated and confining. But she also told me that, married or not, she had every intention of spending the rest of her life with me.

'Shortly after that, we were sent to Bosnia. We were sent to a town that had suffered heavy shelling and Amy, Eric and I were searching the ruins for survivors.'

'Who's Eric?' Mina interrupted.

'Eric was my best friend,' Xavier replied. 'He's not important to the story.' He coughed. 'Do you mind if I get a glass of water. This is difficult for me.'

Mina shook her head and Xavier opened a fridge. Mina had not noticed it before because it was built into one of the wood-panelled cabinets so as not to disrupt the aesthetic of the room. Xavier removed a bottle of water, broke the seal on the cap and filled a glass.

'Would you like something?' Xavier asked.

'No, thank you,' she replied.

Xavier drained half the glass in one go and refilled it from the bottle before continuing with his story.

'We came across one house were three of the four walls had been reduced to rubble. We were about to move on when we heard sobbing. It was Eric who located the door down to the basement. Whoever it was must have retreated down there when the shelling began, but the debris had cover up the hatch preventing them from getting back out. The three of us cleared the door and then descended into the basement via a rickety ladder.

'By the light of my torch, I could make out three figures in the darkness: a man, a woman and a baby. The man was rocking back and forth. It was his sobbing we had heard from outside. Neither the woman nor the child was moving and, as we approached, I was able to see why. They had both been shot, presumably by the gun at the man's feet. Amy examined the mother while I went to the child. There was nothing I could do. Most of the child's head had been destroyed by the gunshot. There was blood everywhere and it was seeping into my pants as I knelt in the dirt. But there was something strange about the child and it took me a moment to realise that it had an extra set of arms.

'The man started speaking rapidly.

''He says that the girl was a monster,' Eric translated for Amy's and my benefit. We both had a smattering of the local language, but he was fluent. 'She was a…a crime against nature. He had to destroy her and the woman that gave birth to her, his wife.'

''That's horrible,' Amy said. I put an arm around her and she leaned into me.

''He says that he was going to kill himself as well,' Eric continued to translate, 'but he ran out of bullets.' I picked up the gun and checked it. The magazine was indeed empty. 'He says that until we showed up, he was planning to stay down here until he starved to death. He doesn't want to go on living without his wife.'

'Eric spat out the last remark. He grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. He was furious. He said that if the man was so keen to die then he would be happy to arrange it himself. I was too stunned to do anything at first and it wasn't until I saw Amy struggling to pull Eric away from the other man that I was spurred into any kind of action. Together, we were able to force them apart and then Amy took the man away to get medical attention while I stayed with Eric to make sure that he didn't do anything that he would later regret.'

---

'She committed suicide? And this was before you met her?' Lila asked. 'Did you see a ghost or something?'

'No, no,' the Doctor replied. 'That was earlier. There was this child. He looked like a boy, but that was just the costume it chose to wear. It was some kind of alien. I'd encountered another of its kind in Whitby some time previously. Well, the remains of one of its kind. Despite being dead, the creature still affected the land around it, bringing to life people's memories. It brought our loved ones back to life for us. They were just illusions, but the boy, the living example of their race, he could make it happen for real.'

'You're not serious,' Lila said. 'I mean, this is all a bit far-fetched.'

'That's what I thought at the time, too,' the Doctor agreed, 'but it's difficult to argue the existence of something when you get to perceive it with your own senses. I'm telling you what happened as I saw it. Whether you choose to believe me or not is up to you.'

'Okay,' Lila replied, 'let's assume for now that I'm buying into this. What did this boy do?'

'He brought Tori back to life.'

'I'm not seeing how that's a bad thing.'

'You think this…this _monster_ did it out of the kindness of its heart?' the Doctor snapped. 'There was a price to pay.'

'What kind of price?'

'Tori's mother sold her soul to the boy in order to have her daughter back.'

'She sold her _soul_?'

'Yes, I suppose that isn't a terribly scientific way of putting things, is it?' the Doctor said. 'Unfortunately, a lot of what happened defied strict scientific explanation.'

'Did that make you uncomfortable?' Lila asked.

'I'm sorry?'

'We're trying to get to the root of what's bothering you,' Lila explained. 'You said this story was part of it and, well, what with you being a doctor, I just thought…'

'That maybe I'd want everything explained away neatly by science? I try to keep an open mind about things, but yes, I suppose there is a part of me that wants everything to make some kind of logical sense.'

'Where were you while this was going on?' Lila asked.

'I was in hospital,' the Doctor replied. 'I'd been stabbed through the heart.'

---

'The child was a mutant, wasn't she?' Mina asked.

'Yes, she was.' Xavier paused while he poured himself some more water. 'You have to understand that, back then, nobody knew very much about mutants as a species. There had been plenty of studies on mutation, of course, but the discovery of the x-factor gene was still years away. From my own personal point of view, I knew about my own gifts. The flood of voices into my skull when my telepathy had first manifested had nearly driven me insane. Fortunately, we lived out in the country so I was able to escape from the pressure of everyone else's thoughts until I had learned to control my power. However, while I knew that I was special, I was unaware that there were others like me. Then I saw the child.

'I read up on the subject and started to come across other cases. No one had thought to connect them before, but I knew. I couldn't tell you how I knew, but I was certain that a connection was there and Amy agreed with me. The sight of that girl had affected us both and we used to stay awake long into the night talking about her and what she might mean. Eventually, we decided that we had to do something about it. Mutants existed, but most of the articles I read ended tragically. No one was doing anything on their behalf so Amy and I returned to America to champion their cause.

'I said that it was our decision, but I'm not entirely sure it was, not anymore. This was my crusade and, while at the time I was convinced that Amy was as behind it as I was, I now wonder if she only came along to be with me. Perhaps my zeal was blinding me even then. I used my telepathy to trace mutants and then Amy and I would see if they needed our help. Many just wanted to be left alone to get on with their lives peacefully and we were happy to oblige. Some needed guidance to understand who and what they were or to control their new gifts. I remember one girl, a pyrokinetic, would have burned down her family farm and herself in the process if Amy had not talked her down. We weren't making much of a difference, just helping one mutant at a time, but that was okay with us.

'Time rolled by and the first papers on the x-factor gene and the species now dubbed _Homo sapiens superior_ were published. Mutants started to creep into the public consciousness. It was, perhaps, the worse thing that could have happened. People fear things they do not understand and, back then when the research was fresh, there was much that we did not understand about mutants. People feared them and it's human nature to hate what we fear.

'Amy and I had made a number of contacts during our cross-country travels and now, as the first signs of an anti-mutant sentiment began to appear, we used these contacts to set up a number of safe houses to which we could transfer mutants who believed themselves to be in danger. If things became to much, I knew someone who could ferry them out of the country and, where necessary, Amy and I would drive groups of mutants to meet him. It was during one such drive that I lost Amy for good.

'We had stopped to pick up supplies and Amy and I had an argument. She had finally had enough of that life. She believed in what we were doing, but not to the same extent that I did and she wanted me to stop. I couldn't do that. The mission was too important to me. I guess Amy didn't want to share me with the mutants anymore so she walked away. I hesitated, torn between helping my charges in the van or going after the woman I loved - because, no matter what else had happened, I did still love her - and by the time I made up my mind to pursue Amy, she was out of sight. I ran after her, bumping into people, mistaking just about every redheaded woman I passed for Amy. Then there was an explosion. I ran back to the car park only to find that someone had blown up my van. They had blown it up while the mutants in my care, the mutants who were counting on me to save them from this kind of violence, were still inside.

'If I had been there, perhaps I could have done something.'

'You don't know that,' Mina said.

'Yes, I do,' Xavier replied. 'With my mental powers, I would have known what the attacker was planning as soon as he thought of it and I could have removed the idea from his head. But I couldn't make up my mind as to which was most important to me, Amy or the mutants, and my indecision lost me both.'

---

'For someone who's been stabbed in the chest, you're looking a lot better now,' Lila remarked.

'The boy offered Mina the same choice he gave to Tori's mother,' the Doctor explained. 'He would save me if she gave up her soul.'

'And she did?'

'She did.'

'She must care for you very much.'

The Doctor changed the subject.

'I went looking for Tori because she was one of the last things I remembered seeing before I was stabbed. We talked. We shared ice cream. She wanted me to take her away with me when I left. I think perhaps I might have done if things hadn't turned out the way they did.'

'She meant a lot to you?'

'Yes. No. Perhaps. She had tried so hard to make something of her life, but everything and everyone else had just pressed down on her so hard that she snapped under the strain. That's not fair. That's not right.'

'Life isn't fair and right, Doctor, you know that.'

'That's why there are people like me,' the Doctor replied, 'people who try and make the universe a little more like the way it should be. Tori had been given a second chance and I didn't want her to waste it. That's all.'

'If you say so,' Lila said, 'but I think maybe there's more to it than that.'

'It doesn't matter,' the Doctor said. 'It wasn't meant to be. I found out what the boy had done to Mina and to Tori's mother, what he had made them do.'

'Go on.'

'Tori had a baby brother. Tori's mother didn't want him to suffer in the same way Tori had, so she killed him. The boy had distorted her sense of morality. She didn't see killing has being wrong anymore. And the boy just thought it was funny. I remember his laughter echoing around the church. So much else is unclear, but that I'll never forget.'

'I didn't do much for a while,' Xavier said, 'just hopped from one motel to another. I didn't sleep because I couldn't face my dreams. Even my waking hours were haunted by the smell of burning flesh. I was lost, but, to cut a long story short, a chance encounter with Eric led me to found this school and I realised I had a second chance to get it right. The problem, as I saw it, was that I hadn't been able to give my full attention to the mutant issue because of my feelings for Amy. So I buried my emotions deep inside and set about giving all of my attention to mutants.

'Everything went well at first. I started small, with a core group of five students: Scott, Hank, Warren, Bobby and Jean. No matter what might be going on out there, I could keep those five safe within these walls and together we could offer aid to other mutants in distress.'

'What went wrong?' Mina asked.

'They grew up,' Xavier replied. 'I wanted them to stay with me, to help train the next generation of students, but no child wants to stay in school forever. They were going to leave me and I…I couldn't let that happen. Not after all the work I had put into the project. When I couldn't convince them to stay by reasoned argument, I applied my mental powers instead.'

'You kept them here against their will?'

'It was the best thing for them,' Xavier said. 'They hadn't seen the things that I had seen, the child shot by her own father, the mutants burning to death in the back of a bus. They didn't understand the world they wanted to be a part of. I just wanted to keep them safe. In the end, it didn't matter. I couldn't do it.'

'Your conscience got the better of you?'

'I wish that were the case, but no. I wasn't powerful enough to do it. Jean had mental powers similar to mine, but with much greater potential. Maybe she sensed what I was doing or perhaps she was unaware that she was mentally pressuring the others to leave with her. In any event, her powers blocked mine and Hank, Bobby and Warren left with her.'

There was one student missing from that list, Mina realised.

'What about Scott?'

'Scott was more important to me that any other student,' Xavier said. 'I sensed right from the first that he believed in my dream almost as much as I did. I am under no illusions that the dream will come to fruition in my lifetime so I will need someone to carry on the fight when I am gone. I was grooming Scott to be my successor. If this school is my Camelot then Scott is the Arthur to my Merlin.'

'Camelot?' Mina repeated. 'You have a very high opinion of this place.'

'And why not?' Xavier asked. 'This is the place where my dreams can become a reality, where mutants can live and grow up in safety. And if I sound overly proud of my work here it's because I still dream of what it may yet be. Maybe it isn't yet, but one day I truly believe that this school will be a shining example to the rest of the world.'

'And should Camelot be built on lies and manipulation,' Mina asked, 'by a teacher who clouds the minds of his pupils?'

'That's what Scott said. I couldn't lose him, you understand, and I couldn't put enough pressure on him with my telepathy so I took the only option left to me. I told him the truth. All of it. No more secrets, no more lies. I explained what I had done and my reasons for doing it and we argued long into the night. Scott was…is an idealist. He didn't want to believe that the end justified the means, so I showed him my files, the press cuttings, the photographs, the autopsy reports. I showed him what we were really fighting for and, in the morning, he said goodbye to Jean, choosing the dream over her just as I had chosen it over Amelia all those years before. He remained an idealist, though, and he fought with me over many of my decisions. I think he stayed to play the role of my conscience.

'Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. Jean still loved Scott and she returned to the school to be closer to him. At first I was grateful. She had always been one of my best students. However, she knew what I had done and, unlike Scott, she was not prepared to forgive me. But perhaps I am being unfair. You see, despite what I said, I hadn't told Scott everything. There was one thing, one small act that I had kept secret because, in my heart, I think I knew that that would push him irrevocably away. But Jean knew. Yes, she knew.'

---

'What did you do?' Lila asked.

'I hunted him down and I stopped him,' the Doctor said. 'That's what I always do to the monsters. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. He mocked me. He was delusional. He saw himself as the devil, as the very embodiment of evil. Perhaps unsurprisingly, we found him waiting for us in a church. And when we arrived he laughed at us. He knew that I was there to try and save the day, again, but he said that this time I was doomed to fail. He sounded so sure, so convincing. He said that the only way to undo what he had done was to kill him, but that I wouldn't be able to go through with it. I stabbed him, Lila. I stabbed him through the heart just as I had been stabbed and I killed him.'

'From the sounds of it, Doctor, I'd say he deserved to die.'

'I don't want to agree with you, Lila,' the Doctor replied. 'I find killing morally repugnant. But that boy had twisted and manipulated people, turned them into monsters and killers and he had revelled in it, showing no remorse whatsoever. If ever there was a creature who deserved to die for what he had done then yes, I believe that boy was it.

'Well, if that's the case then why do you keep beating yourself up over it?'

'When the boy died, everything he had done was undone. Everything. By killing him, I had killed Tori.'

'I'm not sure you had much of a choice,' Lila said when she had overcome her shock. 'From the way you tell it, it was the only way to stop this…boy. And Tori had already chosen to kill herself. You couldn't have changed that.'

'I'm the Doctor. I save people. That's it, that's what I do. So what am I supposed to do when I can't get that right anymore?'

'Well, I don't want to trivialise Tori's death or anything, but it was just the one person you failed, wasn't it?'

'But what if it's symptomatic of something deeper?' the Doctor asked. 'When the boy brought me back to life, I was…changed. I was angrier, more violent. I thought it was something the boy had done to me, but he said not.'

'And you believed him?'

'I know he had every reason to lie,' the Doctor admitted, 'but his words felt true, if you know what I mean. And that scares me. I'm supposed to be the hero. I'm supposed to be the one who always saves the day, but if that dark side's really inside of me… Maybe I can't do this sort of thing anymore.'

---

Xavier trailed off, his eyes focussed on empty space, his mind playing back his memories in his head.

'What did Jean know, Charles?' Mina prompted.

'If you'll allow me to continue the Arthur metaphor for a moment,' Xavier continued, 'then Jean is Guinevere to Scott. All the metaphor needs now is a Lancelot to come between them. A Lancelot I provided. I saw a lot of myself in Scott and I feared him making the same mistakes I had. His love for Jean, like my love for Amelia, could end up costing lives.'

'In your opinion,' Mina pointed out.

'Based on my own experience,' Xavier responded. 'I felt I had to drive a wedge between them for his own sake and, to that end, I introduced an affection for Jean in Warren's mind in the hope that his interference would break up their relationship. Perhaps he would have fallen in love with her without my influence - Jean was a wonderful girl, after all - but I couldn't afford to take that chance. When Jean returned and Warren did not, I tried again using Logan. But I had miscalculated.'

'Miscalculated? How?'

'It's true when they say that love conquers all. The love that Scott and Jean shared was proof against my manipulations. To this day, I'm still uncertain as to why she did not tell Scott the truth as soon as she returned. She could have taken him away from me, but instead she chose to join him in working with me.'

'It's because she still cared for you, Charles,' Mina said. 'Despite everything you had done to her, she still cared for you and wanted to find a way everyone could get what they wanted. You don't deserve that kind of faith.'

'No,' Xavier replied, 'you're right. I don't. As I said, Jean stayed and helped us in our efforts to aid other mutants. During one such mission, she died, but not before she had finally told both Warren and Scott the truth. Scott never forgave me. He blames me for Jean's death, you know. He believes that had I not interfered then Jean would never have come back and put herself in harm's way.'

'He's right,' Mina said.

'Perhaps. In any case, what was one more life on my conscience by that point? Scott left me and my dreams of passing my work on to a successor evaporated. I had to achieve my goal within my lifetime or it would never come to fruition. I hadn't been firm enough with Scott and Jean. I had thought that I had locked my emotions away, but it was my feelings for my students that had prevented me from forcing them to act as they needed, or so I believed. I began to exercise my mental powers more and more. I have lost count of the number of parents I have had to 'persuade' that this school is the best place for their children.'

'You can't make that kind of decision.'

'If I don't, who will? There's a war going on, but most people can't see it. I've seen too many of our kind die already. I will do whatever I have to do to get our people through this. Whatever I have to do.'

---

'If that's what you really think,' Lila asked, 'then why are you trying to help Sam?'

'Maybe I'm just trying to prove myself wrong.'

'Or maybe it's just because you're still the person you always were and not the one you're afraid of becoming.'

'Then tell me this, Lila,' the Doctor said, 'if I'm this great hero then why can't I bear the sight of Mina anymore.'

Lila refilled their glasses.

'You tell me, Doctor,' she said.

'Mina's a vampire. Yes, I know it's difficult to believe, but please just take my word for it and lets move on. It was another little detail that came to light during our time in Newcastle. I suppose that technically she isn't a vampire, but whatever she is it's close enough to make no odds. You see, to my people, the vampires are mortal enemies. We fought a war with them back in the mists of time and each Gallifreyan is charged with eliminating vampires wherever he finds them.'

'Then why haven't you killed her then,' Lila asked, 'if you're charged with eliminating her and so on and so forth?'

'Because she's my friend,' the Doctor said. 'She must have been a vampire when I first met her. She's still the person I invited aboard the TARDIS, the person I've enjoyed sharing the wonders of the universe with. I couldn't _kill_ her. But…'

'You know, Doctor,' Lila remarked, 'you really need to get over yourself.'

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

'You've been ranting at Kitty about how bigoted we mere humans are, but here's the great Doctor being just as prejudiced.'

'That's different,' the Doctor replied.

'Is it? Admit it, Doctor, your problems with Mina stem from what she is, not who she is and until you find a way to look past that, well, you're no better than Campbell and his ilk.'

'You see?' the Doctor said, waving a finger demonstrably. 'You see my point? Neither cruel nor cowardly. That's how it should be, but the truth is, I'm not that person anymore.'

'Will you listen to yourself?' Lila said. 'You're not perfect, Doctor, and you never were. You hold yourself to this really high standard and it's admirably, but it's also unrealistic. So you have a problem with vampires. Given your upbringing, I'm not surprised. But what separates your prejudice from Campbell is that you chose not to act on it. So you think bad thoughts from time to time. Who doesn't? Just because you think something doesn't make you any less of a person. When it comes down to it, you went out of your way to try and help Sam and the others. That has to count for something.'

'And look at the mess I've made of it,' the Doctor complained. 'Xavier was right, I should have left well enough alone. My interference has only made things worse.'

'At least you tried. So you made a mistake. You're only human.'

'Well, actually…'

'People make mistakes, Doctor,' Lila said. 'You have to deal with it and move on. This boy you met, he severely damaged your self-confidence, but that is all he did. You're still the same person you always were.'

'I could argue that point…' The Doctor offered Lila a half-smile to show that he was joking. 'Why are you so interested in rebuilding my self-esteem?'

'You're trying to help Sam,' Lila replied. 'At least, you were. Xavier, who should be looking out for him, can't be bothered, and, from the way Kitty talks about you, I reckon you're his last best shot. I need you to go back out there and find him for me before…'

The Doctor put a hand on her shoulder as Lila trailed off, unable to continue.

'He's still alive,' he said. 'I'm sure of it.'

'How can you possibly know that?'

'If those people had wanted to kill him then they would have done so at the station while they were being filmed. They would have wanted people to know about it, so they could make some kind of statement.'

'Thank you, Doctor,' Lila said. She reached up to her shoulder and put her hand over the Doctor's. 'I will do whatever I have to to get Sam back. The question is: what are you prepared to do?'

---

Mina stood up and crossed quietly to the window, looking out over the snow-covered grounds. Three children were working together to build a snowman.

'You are a hypocrite, Charles,' she said.

'What?'

'I said, you are a hypocrite. You happily preach about peaceful coexistence, but you yourself are a racist.'

'I am not.'

'Aren't you? I've listened to your story, heard you talk about making the world safe for mutants. I haven't once heard you say you want to make it safe for humans too. You've built your little fortress here where only mutants are welcome. Your Camelot, your dream, doesn't feature humans at all, does it?'

'That's not true,' Xavier replied. 'Yes, this school is a sanctuary, but it's a sanctuary because it has to be, not because I want to make one. Humans fear mutants and will harm them given half the chance.'

'No, you're wrong, Charles. Yes, some humans are prejudiced against mutants simply because they are different, in much the same way that some humans are prejudiced against those of another race. However, the truth is that most humans are frightened of mutants because you are dangerous.'

'No.'

'No? In my short stay here, I've seen people with metal clears and people who can fire death rays from their eyes. I've seen people with metal skin and others who can lift heavy objects just by thinking about it. And I have seen people who use their powers to make sure that they always get their way, no matter the cost. You think that you are at war here, Charles? Tell me, which side has more right to feel threatened?'

'We don't want to hurt the humans,' Xavier insisted. 'I suppose you're right, we could if we want to, but the vast majority of mutants just want to live in peace.'

'Then tell them that,' Mina replied. 'Show them. Hiding away in your private utopia is not going to do anything to allay their perfectly justifiable fears. Is your brave new world going to be built on a foundation of deceit and betrayal, Charles?'

'I was just trying to do what I thought was right,' Xavier said.

'And by doing so, you became part of the problem, Charles,' Mina said. 'We can't all work together if you insist on making us pick sides.'

'I guess part of me is still a soldier. I see everything in terms of a battle.'

'It's still a battle, Charles,' Mina replied, 'but the enemy is neither human nor mutant, it's ignorance.'

'So, what do we do now?' Xavier asked.

What Mina wanted to do was to hit him again. He had abused those who placed their trust in him. Not physically, admittedly, but Mina felt that this was probably worse. Simply being in the room with him made her angry, but she contained it. There was more at stake than just the two of them. And, despite herself, Mina had to admit that, although she despised his actions, she agreed with his motives for taking them. The ends may not have justified the means, but the ends themselves were still noble.

She thought of Rachel, of all she had done in her past. She had also betrayed those who had placed their trust in her, but she had been given a second chance here, in her own past and, as far as Mina could tell, she was making good of it. Did Xavier deserve the same second chance? The Doctor would say yes, Mina knew, but she was not the Doctor…

'What you are going to do,' she said to Xavier, 'is go to your students and tell them what you have done. They're the ones that you betrayed so it should be their decision as to whether or not you deserve a second chance.'

'And then?'

'I have a few ideas,' Mina admitted. 'If we want to build this dream, perhaps we should try living it.'


End file.
